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S. G. and E. L. ELBERT 





" In the long vista of the years to roll, 

Let me not see my country's honor fade; 
Oh I let me see our land retain its soul I 
Her pride in Freedom, and not Freedom's shadi.'* 




Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854, by 


In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Northern District of 
New York. 


216 William St. N. Y. 


J]Sr commending this, tlie second volume of " the 
■ Autographs f or ' Freedom ^'^ to the attention of tlie 

CIETY" would congratulate themselves and the friends 
of freedom generally on the progress made, during 
the past year, by the cause to which the book is de- 

We greet thankfully those who have contributed of 
the Yv'ealth of their genius ; the strength of their con- 
victions ; the ripeness of their judginent ; their earnest- 
ness of purpose ; their generous sympathies ; to the 
completeness and excellence of the work ; and we shall 
hope to meet many of them, if not all, in other num- 
bers of ^' The Autograph^'' which may be called forth 
ere the chains of the Slave shall be broken, and 

vi Peeface. 

this country redeemed from tlie sin and the curse of 

On behalf of the Eochester Ladies' Anti-Slavery 
Society. . 


Subject. Author. page 

Inteoduction (The Colored People's 

"Industrial College") . . , Prof. C. L. Reason . 11 

Massacre at Blount's Tort . . Hon, J, R. Giddings 14 

The Fugitive Slave Act . . . Ron. Wm. Jay . . 27 

The Size of Souls .... Antoinette L. Brown 41 

Vincent Oge * George B. Vashon . 44 

The Law of Liberty . . . Rev. Br. Wm. Marsh 61 

The Swiftness of Time in God . . Theodore Parlcer . 63 
Visit of a Fugitive Slave to the Grave 

of Wilberforce .... Win, Wells Brown . 70 

Narrative of Albert and Mary . . Dr. W. H. Brishane 77 

Toil and Trust .... Em. Chas. F. Adams 128 
Friendsliip for the Slave is Friendship 

for the Master .... Jacol) Ahhott . . 134 

Christine Anne F.Adams. . 139 

The Intellectual, Moral, and Spiritual 

C(jndition of the Slave . . . J. M. Langston . 147 

The Bible versus Slavery . . Rev. Br. Willis . « 151 

The "Work Goes Bravely on . » W. J. Wathins . 156 




Slaveholding not a Misfortune but a 

The Illegality of Slaveliolding . 
Ore Perennius" .... 

The Mission of America . 

PisfelloTTshipping the Slaveholder 

A Leaf from my Scrap Book 

'Who is my Neighbor 

Consolation for the Slave 

The Key ' . 

The True Mission of Liberty . 

The True Spuit of Eeform 

A Welcome to Mrs. H. B. Stowe^ on 
her return from Em*ope 

Forward (from the German) 

What has Canada to do with Slavery ? 

A Fragment 

The Encroachment of the Slave Power 

The Dishonor of Labor 

The Evils of Colonization 

The Basis of the American Constitu- 
tion . . 

A Wish 

A Dialogue . . . . ■ . 

A time of Justice will come . 

Hope and Confidence 

A Letter that speaks for itself 

On Freedom 

Mary Smith. An Anti-Slavery Re- 

Author. PAoa 

I^ev Wjn. Broch . 158 

Bev. W. Goodell . 159 

David Paul Broicn . 160 

JoJin S. C. AUott . 161 

Lewis Tappan . .163 

Win. J. Wilson . 165 

Bev, Thos. Starr King 17-4 

Dr. S. Willard . 175 

Dr. S. Willard . . l77 

Dr. W. Elder . 178 

Mary Willard . . 180 

J. C. Holhj . . 184 

Eev. T. W. Higginson 186 

Thos. Henning . 187 

Eev. Evfus Ellis . 190 

John Jay^ Esq. . 192 

Horace Greeley . .194 

Wm. WatHns . 198 

Ron. Wm. H. Seward 201 

Mrs. C. M. KirUand 207 

C. A.Bloss . . 210 

Ron. Gerit Smiili . 225 

Prof. C. L. Eeason . 226 

Jane G. Swisshelm , 230 

E. W. Emerson . .23 

Eon S. E. Sewell. . 236 



Subject. Author. "^agb 

Freedom — Liberty .... Br. J. McCune Smith 241 
An Aspiration .... Jlev. E. H. Chajoin . 242 
The Dying Soliloquy of the. Victim of 

the Wilkesbarre Tragedy . . Mrs. H. H. Greenov.gli 243 
Let all be Free ... . . Eon. C. M. Clay . 248 
Extract from a Speech . . . Frcdericlc Douglass . 251 
Extract from an Unpublished Poem 

on Freedom . . . . William D. Snoio . 25G 

Letter . . . . . . Eev. H.Ward Beeclier 273 

A Day Spent at Playford Hall . Mrs. Harriet B. Stoice 277 
Teaching the Slave to Eead . . Mary Irving . . 804 


€Qlmii f wile's "fiihstrial Colleije; 


WORD oft-times is expressive of an entire pol- 

icy. Such is tlie term Abolition, Though for- 
merly used as a synonym of Anti- Slavery^ people now 
clearly understand that the designs of those who have 
ranged themselves under the first of these systems of 
reform are of deeper significance and wider scope 
than are the objects contemplated by the latter, and 
concern themselves not only with the great primary 
question of bodily freedom, but take in also the col- 
lateral issues connected with human enfranchisement, 
independent of race, complexion, or sex. 

The Abolitionist of to-day is the Iconoclast of the 
age, and his mission is to break the idolatrous images 


The Coloeed People's 

set uj) by a hypocritical Churcli; a Sliam Democracy, 
or a corrupt public sentiment, and to substitute in 
their stead tlie simple and beautiful doctrine of a com- 
mon brotlierliood. He would elevate every creature 
by abolishing the hinderances and checks imposed 
uj)on him, whether these be legal or social — and in 
pro]3ortion as such gxievances are invidious and 
severe, in such measure does he place himself in the 
front rank of the battle, to wage his emancipating 

Therefore it is that the Abolitionist has come to be 
considered the especial friend of the negro, since Ae, of 
all others, has been made to drink deep from the cup 
of oppression. 

The free-colored man at the north, for his bond- 
brother as for himself, has trusted hopefully in the ir- 
creasing public sentiment, which, in the multiplica- 
tion of these friends, has made his future prospects 
brighter. And, to-day, while he is making a noble 
struggle to vindicate the claims of his entire class, de- 
pending mainly for the accomplishment of that end 
on his ovm exertions, he passes in review the devotion 
and sacrifices made in his behalf: gratitude is in his 
heart, and thanks fall from his lips. But, in one de- 



partment of reformatory exertion lie feels that he has 
been neglected. He has seen his pledged allies throw 
themselves into the hottest of the battle, to fight for 
the Abolition of Capital Punishment — for the Pro- 
hibition of the Liquor Tr£ifS.c — for the Eights of 
Women, and similar reforms,' — but he has failed to 
see a corresponding earnestness, according to the in- 
fluence of Abolitionists in the business world, in open- 
ing the avenues of industrial labor to the proscribed 
youth of the land. This work, therefore; is evidently 
left for himself to do. And he has laid his powers to 
the task. The record of his conclusions was given 
at Eochester, in July, and has become already a part 
of history. 

Though shut out from the workshops of the coun- 
try, he is determined to make self-provision, so as to 
triumph over the spirit of caste that would keep him 
degraded. The utility of the Industrial Institution he 
would erect, must, he believes, commend itself to 
Abolitionists. But not only to them. The verdict of 
less liberal minds has been given already in its favor. 
The usefulness, the self-respect and self-dependence, — 
the combination of intelligence and handicraft, — the 
accumulation of the materials of wealth, all referable 


The Colored People's 

to sucli an Institution, present fair claims to the as- 
sistance of the entire American people. 

Whenever emancipation shall take place, immedi- 
ate though it be, the subjects of it, like many who 
now make up the so-called free population, mil be in 
what Greologists call, the Transition State." The 
prejudice now felt against them for bearing on their 
persons the brand of slaves, cannot die out immedi- 
ately. Severe trials will still be their portion — the 
curse of a taunted race " must be expiated by almost 
miraculous proofs of advancement ; and some of these 
miracles must be antecedent to the great day of 
Jubilee. To fight the battle on the bare ground of 
abstract principles, will fail to give us complete xic- 
tory. The subterfages of pro-slavery selfishness must 
now be dragged to light, and the last weak argument, 
— that the negro can never contribute anything to ad- 
vance the national character, "nailed to the counter 
as base coin." To the conquering of the difl&culties 
heaped up in the path of his industry, the free-colored 
man of the North has pledged himself. Already he 
sees, springing into growth, from out his foster work- 
school, intelligent young laborers, competent to enrich 
the world with necessary products — ^industrious 

"Industrial College." 


citizens, contributing their proportion to aid on tte 
advancing civilization of the country; — self-provid- 
ing artizans vindicating their people from the never- 
ceasing charge of a fitness for servile positions. 

Abolitionists ought to consider it a legitimate part 
of their great work, to aid in such an enterprise — ^to 
abolish not only chattel servitude, but that other kind 
of slavery, which, for generation after generation, 
dooms an oppressed people to a condition of depend- 
ence and pauperisnl. Such an Institution would be 
a shining mark, in even this enlightened age ; and 
every man and woman, equipped by its discipline to 
do good battle in the arena of active life, would be, 
next to the emancipated bondman, the most desirable 
" Autograph for Freedom^ 

AN the west side of tlie AppalacHcola Eiver, some 
^ forty miles beloTV tlie line of Georgia, are yet 
found tlie ruins of wliat was once called Blouxt's 
FoET.'' Its ramparts are now covered with, a dense 
growth of underbrush and small trees. You may yet 
trace out its bastions, curtains, and magazine. At 
this time the country adjacent presents the appearance 
of an unbroken wilderness, and the whole scene is one 
of gloomy soL'tade, associated as it is with one of the 
most cruel massacres which ever disgraced the Ameri- 
can arms. 

The fort had originally been erected hy civilized 
troops, and, when abandoned by its occupants at the 
close of the y\-ar, in 1815, it was taken possession of 
by the refugees from Georgia. But little is yet known 
of that persecuted people ; their history can only bo 

AT I5Lo^^•T's Port. 


found in the national archives at Wasli'mgton. They 

had been hjLl as slaves in the S!:at3 referred to ; but 
during the Revolution they caught the spint of 
liberly, at that time so prevalent throughout our land, 
and fled from their oppressors and found an asylum 
among the aborigines living in Florida. 

Daring forty years they had effectually eluded, or 
resisted, all attempts to re-enslave them. They were 
true to thems'jlves, to the instinctive love of liberty, 
'which is planted ia every human heart. Must of 
them had been born amidst perils, reared in the forest, 
and taught from their chiidaood to hate the oppress- 
ors of their race. !Most of those who had bcQU per- 
sonally held in degrading servitude, whose baeks had 
been seared l)y the lash of the savage overseer, had 
passed to that spirit-land where the clanking of 
chains is not heard, where slavery is not known. 
Some few of that class yet remained. Their gray 
hairs and feeble limbs, however, indieated that they, 
too, must soon pass awa3\ Of the three hundred and 
eleven persons residing in " Blount's Fort" not more 
than twenty had been actually held in servitude. The 
others were descended from slave parents, who fled 
from Georgia, and, according to the laws of slavo 



States, were liable to suffer the same outrages to ^^hicli 
their ancestors had been subjected. 

It is a most singular feature in slave-holding 
morals, that if the parents be robbed of their hberty, 
deprived of the rights with which their Creator has 
endowed them, the perpetrator of these wrongs be- 
comes entitled to repeat them upon the children of 
their former victims. There were also some few 
parents and grandchildren, as well as middle-aged 
persons, who sought protection within the w^Us of 
the Fort against the vigilant slave-catchers who oc- 
casionally were seen prowling around the fortifica- 
tions, but who dare not venture within the power of 
those whom they sought to enslave. 

These, fugitives had planted their gardens, and some 
of them had flocks roaming in the wilderness ; all 
were enjoying the fruits of their labor, and congratu- 
lating themselves upon being safe from the attacks of 
those who enslave mankind. But the spirit of op- 
pression is inexorable. The slaveholders finding they 
could not themselves obtain possession of their in- 
tended victims, called on the President of the United 
States for assistance to perpetrate the crime of enslav- 
ing their fellow men. That functionary had been 



reared amid southern institutions. He entertained no 
doubt of the right of one man to enslave another. 
He did not doubt that if a man held in servitude 
should attempt to escape, he would be worthy of 
death. In short, he fully sympathised with those 
who sought his official aid. He immediately directed 
the Secretary of War to issue orders to the Com- 
mander of the Southern Military District of the 
United States" to send a detachment of troops to de- 
stroy Blount's Fort," and to seize those who occupied 
it and return them to their mastersy^ 

General Jackson, at that time Commander of the 
Southern Military District, directed Lieut.-Colonel 
Clinch to perform the barbarous task. I was at one 
time personally acquainted with that officer, and 
know the impulses of his generous nature, and can 
readily account for the failure of his expedition. He 
marched to the vicinity of the Fort, made the neces- 
sary recognisance, and returned, making report that 
" the fortification was not accessible by land."f 

* Vide Executive documents of the 2d Session 13th Congress. 

f It is believed that this report was siiggestpd by the humanity of 
Col. Clinch. He was reputed one of the bravest and most energetic 
officers in tbe service. He possessed an indomitable perseverance, and 
could probably have captured the Fort in one hour, had he desii*ed to 
do BO. 



Orders were then issued to Commodore Patterson, 

directiDg him to carry out the directions of the Secre- 
tary of War. He at that time commanded the Ameri- 
can flotilla lying in " Mobile Bay,'' and instantly 
issued an order to Lieut. Loomis to ascend the Ap- 
palachicola Eiver with two gun-boats, to seize the 
people in Blouxt s Fort, deliver them to their 
owners, and destroy the Fort." 

On the morning of the 17th Sept., A. D. 1816, a 
spectator might have seen several individuals stand- 
ing upon the walls of that fortress watching with in- 
tense interest the approach of two small vessels that 
were slowh' ascending the river, under full-spread 
canvas, by the aid of a light southern breeze. They 
were in sight at early dawn, but it was ten o'clock 
when they furled their sails and cast anchor opposite 
the Fort, and some four or five hundred yards dis- 
tant from it. 

A boat was lowered, and soon a midshipman and 
twelve men were observed making for the shore. 
They were met at the water's edge- by some half 
dozen of the principal men in the Fort, and their 
errand demanded. 

The yoiing officer told them he vras sent to make 

AT Blount's Fobt. 


demand of the Fort, and that its inmates were to be 
given np to the slaveholders, then on board the 
gun-boat, who claimed them as fugitive slaves !" The 
demand was instantly rejected, and the midshipman 
md his men returned to the gun-boats and informed 
Lieut. Loomis of the answer he had received. 

As the colored men entered the Fort they related 
;o their companions the demand that had been made, 
jrreat was the consternation manifested by the 
females, and even a portion of the sterner sex ap- 
peared to be distressed at their situation. This was 
observed by an old patriarch, who had drunk the 
bitter cup of servitude, one who bore on his person 
the visible marks of the thong, as well as the brand 
of his master, upon his shoulder. He saw his friends 
faultered, and he spoke cheerfully to them. He as- 
sured them that they were safe from the cannon shot 
of the enemy — that there Vv^ere not men enough on 
board the vessels to storm tlieir Fort, and finally 
closed with the emphatic dechiration: " Give meliherty 
or give me death Tirls snying was repeated by 
many agonized fathers moiiiers on that bloody day. 

A cannonade was soon commenced upon the Fort, 
but without much apparaat effact. The shots were 



harmless; they penetrated the earth of which the 
walls were composed, and were there buried, without 
further injury. Some two hours were thus spent 
without injuring any person in the Fort. They then 
commenced throwing bombs. The bursting of these 
shells had more effect. There was no shelter from 
these fatal messages. Mothers gathered their little 
ones around them and pressed their babes more 
closely to their bosoms, as one explosion after an- 
other warned them of their imminent danger. By 
these explosions some were occasionally wounded 
and a few killed, until, at length, the shrieks of the 
wounded and groans of the dying were heard in 
various parts of the fortress. 

Do you ask why these mothers and children were 
thus butchered in cold blood? I answer, they were 
slain for adliering to the doctrine that " all men are 
endowed by their Creator with the inalienahle right to 
enjoy life and lihertyr Holding to this doctrine of 
Hancock and of Jefferson, the power of the nation 
was arrayed against them, and our army eir.ployed to 
deprive them of life. 

The bombardment vras continued some hours with 
but little effect, so 'ar as t-:e assailants could discover. 



They manifested no disposition to surrender. The 
day was passing away. Lieut. Loomis called a 
council of officers and put to them the question, what 
further shall he done f An under officer suggested the 
propriety of firing hot shot at the magazine." The 
proposition was agreed to. The furnaces were heated, 
balls were prepared, and the cannonade was resumed. 
The occupants of the Fort felt relieved by the change. 
They could hear the deep humming sound of the 
cannon balls, to which they had become accustomed 
in the early part of the day, and some made them- 
selves merry at the supposed folly of their assailants. 
They knew not that the shot was heated, and was there- 
fore unconscious of the danger which threatened them. 

The sun was rapidly descending in the west. The 
tall pines and spruce threvy^ their shadows over the 
fortification. The roar of the cannon, the sighing of 
the shot, the groans of the wounded, the dark shades of 
approaching evening, all conspired to render the scene 
one of intense gloom. They longed for the approach- 
ing night to close around them in order that they might 
bury the dead, and flee to the wilderness for safety. 

Suddenly a startling phenomena presented itself to 
their astonished view. The heavy embankment and 



timbers protecting the magazine appeared to rise from 
tlie earth, and the next instant the dreadful explosion 
overwhehneJ them, and the next found two hundred 
and seventy parents and children in the immediate 
presence of a holy God, making their appeal for retri- 
butive justice upon the government who had mur- 
dered them, and the freemen of the north who sus- 
tained such unutterable crimes.* 

Many were crushed by the falling earth and the tim- 
bers ; many were cnt;re]y buried in the ruins. Some 
were horribly mangled by the fragments of timber and 
the explosion of charged shells that were in the maga- 
zine. Limbs were torn from the bodies to which they 
had been attached. Mothers and babes lay beside each 
other, wrapped in that sleep which knows no waking. 

The sun had sot, and the twilight of evening was 
closing around them, when some sixty sailors, under 
the officer second in command, landed, and, without 
opposition, entered the Fort. The veteran sailors, ac- 
customed to blood and camago, were horror-stricken 
as they viewed the scene before them. They were 
accompanied, however, by some twenty slaveholders, 

* That is tlie nniiiber offirially rpported by the offiaer in oumnianJ, 
Tid« £x«;cuUTk' doc c>f tbe 1 3tb CuO^td^ 

AT Blouitt's Fort. 


all anxious for tlieir prey. These paid little attention 
to the dead and dying, but anxiously seized upon the 
living, and, fastening the fetters upon their limbs, 
hurried them from the Fort, and instantly commenced 
their return towards the frontier of Georgia. Some 
fifteen persons in the Fort survived the terrible ex- 
plosion, and they now sleep in servile graves, or moan 
and weep in bondage. 

The officer in command of the party, with his men, 
returned to the boats as soon as the slaveholders were 
fairly in possession of their victims. The sailors ap- 
peared gloomy and thoughtful as they returned to 
their vessels. The anchors were weighed, the sails 
unfurled, and both vessels hurried from the scene of 
butchery as rapidly as they were able. After the 
officers had retired to their cabins, the rough-featured 
sailors gathered before the mast, and loud and bitter 
were the curses they uttered against slavery and 
against those officers of government vrho had then 
constrained them to murder women and helpless 
children, merely for their love of liberty. 

But the dead remained unburied ; and the next day 

the vultures were feeding upon the carcasses of young 

men and young women, whose hearts on the previous 



morning had beaten liigli with, expectation. Their 
bones, have been bleaching in the sun for thirt j-seven 
3'ears, and may yet be seen scattered among the ruins 
of that ancient fortification. 

TAventy-two years elapsed, and a representative in 
Congress, from one of the free States, reported a bill 
giving to the perpetrators of these murders a gratuity 
of five thousand dollars from the public treasury, as a 
token of the gratitude which the people of this nation 
felt for the soldierly and gallant manner in which the 
crime was committed toward them. The bill passed 
both houses of Congress, was approved by the Presi- 
dent, and now stands upon oui^ statute book among 
the laws enacted at the 3d Session of the 25th Congress. 

The facts are all found scattered among the various 
public documents which repose in the alcoves of our 
National Library. But no historian has been willing 
to collect and publish them, in consequence of the 
deep disgrace which they reflect upon the American 
arms, and upon those who then controlled the gov- 

EW laws liave ever been passed better calculated 

than this to harden the heart and benumb the 
conscience of every man who assists in its execution. 
It pours contempt upon the dictates of justice and 
humanity. It levels in the dust the barriers erected 
by the common law for the protection of personal 
liberty. Its victims are native born Americans, un- 
charged with crime. These men are seized, without 
notice, and instantly carried before an officer, by 
whom they are generally hurried off into a cruel 
bondage, for the remainder of their days, and some- 
times without time being allowed for a parting inter- 
view with their families. Such treatment would be 
cruel toward criminals ; but these men are adjudged 
to toil, to stripes, to ignorance, to poverty, to hope- 
less degradation, on the pretence that they ^'owe ser- 


The Fugitive 

vice." This allegation all know to be utterlj^ false, 
they having never promised to serve, and being 
legally incapable of making any contract. Every act 
of Christian kindness to these unhappy people, tend- 
ing to secure to them the rights which our declaration 
of independence asserts belong to all men, is made by 
this accursed law a penal offence, to be j^nnished with 
fine and imprisonment. Mock judges, unknown to 
the constitution, and bribed by the promise of double 
fees to re-enslave the fugitive, are commanded to de- 
cide, summarily^ the most momentous personal issue, 
with the single exception of life and death, that could 
possibly engage the attention of a legal tribunal of the 
most august character. Yet this tremendous issue of 
liberty or bondage, is to be decided, not only in a 
hurr}^, but on such prima facie evidence as may 
satisfy the judge, and this judge, too, selected from a 
herd of similar creatures, b}^ the claimant himself ! ! 
An ex parte affidavit, made by an absent and interested 
part}^, with the certificate of an absent judge that he 
believes it to be true, is to be received as coxclusive, 
in the face of anj* amount of oral and documentary 
testimonv to the contrarv. Can a man take 
into his bosom and not bo burned?" Can a man aid 

Slave Act. 


in executing such a law without defiling his own 
conscience? Yet does this profligate statute, with 
impious arrogance, command ''all GOOD citizens" 
to assist in enforcing it, when required so to do by an 
official slave-catcher ! 

It is a singular fact, in the history of this enact- 
ment, that Mr. Mason,- vv'ho introduced the bill, and 
Mr. Webster, who, in advance, pledged to it his sup- 
port to the fullest extent," both confessed, on the 
floor of Congress, that in their individual judgments, 
it was UNCOXSTITUTIOXAL, — that is, that the consti- 
tution, as they expounded it, imposed upon the Sto.tes 
severally, the obligation to suiTcnder fugitive slaves, 
and gave Congress no power to legislate on the sub- 
ject. The Supreme Court, however, having other- 
wise determined, these gentlemen acquiesced in its 
decision, without being convinced by it. It is well 
known how grossly Mr. Webster, in his subsequent 
canvass for the Presidency, insulted all who, like him- 
self, denied the constitutionality of the lav»^ Another 
significant fact in the same history is, that the law was 
passed by a minority of the House of Representatives. 
Of 232 members, only 109 recorded their names in its 
favor. Many, deterred either by scruples of con- 


The Fugitive 

science or doubts of the popularity of the measure, de* 
clined voting, while party discipline prevented them 
from offering to it an open and manly resistance. A 
third fact in this history, worthy to be remembered, 
is, that the advocates of the law are conscious that its 
revolting provisions would not bear discussion, forced 
its passage under the previous question, thus prevent- 
ing anj^ remarks on its enormities — any appeals to 
the consciences of the members — against the perpetra- 
tion of such detestable wickedness. 

Seldom has any public iniquity been committed to 
which the words of the Psalmist have been so appli- 
cable : " Surely the wrath of man shall praise Thee ; 
and the remainder of wrath shalt Thou restrain." 

It was happily so ordered, that several of the early 
seizures and surrenders under this law were con- 
ducted with such marked barbarity, such cruel in- 
decent haste, such wanton disregard of justice and of 
humanity, as to shock the moral sense of the com- 
munity, and to render the law intensely hateful. 

Very soon after the law went into operation, one 
of the pseudo judges created by it, surrendered an 
alleged slave, on evidence which no jury would have 
deemed sufficient to establish a title to a dog. In vain 

Slave Act. 


the wretched man declared his freedom — in vain he 
named six witnesses whom he swore could prove his 
freedom — ^in vain he implored for a delay of one 
HOUE. He was sent off as a slave, guarded, at the 
expense of the United States treasury, to his pre- 
tended master in Maryland, who honestly refused to 
receive him. The judge had made a mistake ( ! ) and 
had sent a free man instead of a slave. 

This vile law, although of course receiving the 
sanction of the Democrats, it being a bid for the 
Presidency, was a device of the Whig party, and 
could not have been carried but by the co-operation 
of Webster, Clay, and Fillmaore. As if to enhance 
the value of the bid, the Administration affected a 
desire to baptise it in northern blood, by making re- 
sistance to the law, a crime to be punished wi:h 
DEATH. The hustling of an officer, and the conse- 
quent escape of an arrested fugitive, were declared, by 
the Secretary of State, to be a levying of war against 
the United States— oi course an act of high teeasox, 
to be expiated on the gallows ; and the rioters at 
Christiana were prosecuted for high teeason, in pur- 
suance of orders forwarded from Washington. This 
•wretched sycophancy won no favor from the slave- 


The Fugitive 

holders, and the result of tlie abominable and absurd 

prosecution only brought on the authors and advo- 
cates of the law fresh obloquy. When men obtain 
some rich and splendid prize, by their wrong-doing, 
many admire their boldness and dexterity, but foolish, 
profitless wickedness ensures only contempt. The 
northern AVhigs, in doing obeisance to tlie slave 
power, sinned against their oft-repeateJ an I solemn 
professions and pledges. They sinned in the expecta- 
tion of thereby electing a President, and enjoying the 
patronage he would dispense. Most bitterly Vv'cro 
these men disappointed, first in the candidate selected, 
and next in the result of the election. The party has 
been beaten to death, and it died unhonored and un- 
wept. Let the Fugitive Slave Law be its epitaph. 
Truly the Whig politicians were ^'snared in the work 
of their own hands." 

Certain fashionable Divines deemed it expedient to 
second the efforts of the politicians in catching slaves, 
by talking from their pulpits about Hebrew slaver^^, 
and the reverence due to the "powers that be or- 
dained of God." Yet the injunctions of the fugitive 
law were so obviously at variance with the "IIIGIIER 
LAW " of justice and mercy which these gentlemen 

Slave Act. 


were required by tlieir Divine Master to inculcate, 
that ^'cotton divinity " fell into disrepute, nor could 
tlie plaudits of politicians and union committees save 
its clerical professors from forfeiting the esteem and 
confidence of multitudes of Christian people. 

But Whig politicians and cotton Divines are not 
the only friends of the fugitive law to whom it has 
made most ungrateful returns. The Democratic 
leaders, bidding against the Whigs for the Presidency, 
were most vociferous in expressions of the delight 
they took in the human chase. Democratic candi- 
dates for the Presidency, to the goodly number of 
NINE, gave public attestations under their signs 
manual^ of their approbation of a law outraging the 
principles of Democracy, as well as of common justice 
and humanity. Each and all of these men were re- 
jected, and the slaveholders selected an individual 
whom they , were well assured vrould be their obsequi- 
ous tool, but v/ho had offered no bribe for their votes. 

But did the slaveholders themselves gain more by 
this law than their northern auxiliaries? They, in- 
deed, hailed its passage as a mighty triumph. The 
nation had given them a law, drafted by themselves, 

laying down the rules of the hunt, as best suited thei? 



The Fugitive 

pleasure and interest. Wealthy and influential gentle- 
" men in our commercial cities, out of compliment to 
southern electors, became amateur huntsmen, and in 
New York and Boston the chase was pursued-with 
^;11 the zeal and apparent delight that could have been 
expected in Guinea or Yii^ginia. Slave-catching was 
the test, at once, of patriotism and gentility, while 
sympathy for the wretched fugitive was the mark of 
vulgar fanaticism. The north was humbled in the 
dust, by the action of her own recreant sons. Every 
'^good citizen" found himself, for the first time in the 
history of mankind, a slave-catcher by law. Every 
official, appointed by a slave-catching judge, was in- 
vested with the authority of a High Sheriff, being 
empowered to call out the posse comitatus, and compel 
the neighbors to join in a slave chase. Well, indeed, 
might the slaveholders rejoice and make merry ; — 
well, indeed, in the insolence of triumph, might they 
command the people of the north to hold their 
tongues about ^'the peculiar institution," under pain 
of their sore dis23leasure. 

But amid this slavery jubilee, a woman's heart was 
Bwelling and heaving with indignant son^ow at the 
outrages offered to God and man by the fugitive 

Slave Act. 


law. Her pent up emotions struggled for utterance, 
and at last, as if moved by some mighty inspiration, 
and in all tlie fervor of Christian love, slie put forth a 
book which arrested the attention of the world. A 
miracle of authorship, this book attained, Avithin 
twelve m^onths, a circulation without a parallel in the 
history of printing. In that brief space, about two 
millions of volumes proclaimed, in the languages of 
civilization, the v,a^ongs of the slave and the atrocities 
of the a:^iepjcax fugitive law. The gaze of man- 
kind is novv^ turned upon the slaveholders and their 
northern auxiliaries, both clerical and lay. The sub- 
jects of European despotisms console themselves with 
the grateful conviction, that however harsh may be 
their own governments, they make no approach to the 
baseness or to the cruelty and tyranny of the '^pecu- 
liar institution" of the Model Eepublic."'^ 

* A late American traveller, in Germany, invited to an evening 
party at the house of a Professor, attempted to compliment the com- 
pany by expressing his indignation at the oppression which " the dear 
old German fatherland " suffered at the hands of its rulers. The 
American's profferred sympathy was coldly received. " We admit," 
was the reply, "that there is much wrong here, but we do not admit 
the right of your country to rebuke it. There is a system now with 
you, worse than anything which we know of tyranny — your sLAVEEr. 
It is a disgrace and blot on your free government and on a Christiau 
Starte. We have nothing in Russia or Hungary which is so degrading, 


The Fugitive 

One slaveliolder, together with the cotton men of 
the north, fretted and vexed by their sudden and un- 
enviable notoriety, foolishly attempted to obviate the 
impressions made by the book, by denouncing it as a 
lying fiction. Xay, one of the most affecting illustra- 
tions of pure and undefiled Christianity that ever pro- 
ceeded from an uninspired pen, was gravely declared, 
by an orgcin of cotton divinity, to be an Axti-Chris- 
TIAX book.'-^ Truly, indeed, the wisdom of man is 

and we have uotbing which so crushes the mind. And more than 
this, we hear you have now a law, just passed by your National As- 
sembly, which would disgrace the cruel code of the Czar. We hear 
of free men and women, hunted like dogs on your mountains, and sent 
back, without trial, to bondage worse than our serfs have ever known. 
We have, in Europe, many excuses in ancient evils and deep-laid 
prejudices, but you, the young and free people, in this age, to be 
passing again, afresh, such measures of unmitigated wrong !" — Home 
life in Germany, by Charles Loving Brace. Mr. Brace honestly 
adds : " Imnst say that the blood tingled to my cheek with ahame^ as he 
spoke y 

* " We have read the book, and regard it as Anti-Christian, on the 
same grounds that the chronicle regards it decidedly anti ministerial" 
— New York Observer, Septembex 22, 1852. — Editorial. The Bishop 
of Rome also regards the book as Anti Christian, and has forbidden 
ijis subjects to read it. On the other hand, the clergy of Great 
Britain dilfer most wddely from the reverend gentlemen of the 
" Observer " and the Vatican, in their estimate of the character of 
the book. Said Dr. Wardlaw, who on this subject may be regarded 
as the representative of the Protestant Divines of Europe : *' He 
who can read it without the breathings of devotion, must, if he call 
himself a Christian, have a Christianity as unique and questio7iable as 
Lis humanity." 

Slave Act. 


foolisliness with God. He disappointetli tlie de- 
vices of the crafty." 

Branded with falsehood and impiety, the author 
was happily put on her trial before the civilized world. 
She collected, arranged, and gave to the press, a mass 
of unimpeachable documents, consisting of laws, 
judicial decisions, trials, confessions of slaveholders, 
advertisem.ents'from southern papers, and testimonies 
of eye-witnesses. The proof vv^as conclusive and over- 
whelming that the picture she had drawn of Ameri- 
can slavery was unfaithful, only because the coloring 
was faint, and wanted the crimson dye of the original. 
A verdict of not guilty of exaggeration has been ren- 
dered by acclamation. 

It has long been the standing refuge of the slave- 
holders, that northern men and Europeans, in con- 
demning slavery, were passing judgment against an 
institution of which they were ignorant. The " pecu- 
liar institution" was represented as some great mys- 
tery which could not be understood beyond the slave 
region. Thanks to the fugitive law, it has led to the 
construction of a " Jcey,^^ which has unlocked our Ee- 
publican bastile, thrown open to the sunlight its hid- 
eous dungeons, and exposed the various instruments of 

38 The Fugitive 

torture for subjecting the soul, as \yell as the body, 
to hopeless and unresisting bondage. The iniquity 
of our cherished institution is no longer a mystery. 
All Christendom is now made familiar with it, and is 
sendins: forth a cry of indi^'nant remonstrance and of 
taunting scorn. Such is the suppression of anti- 
slavery agitation given to the slaveholders by their 
northern friends — such the strength imparted by the 
fugitive slave law to the sj'stem of human bondage. 
How applicable to the inventors and supporters of 
that statute are the words of David, in regard to some 
politician of his own da}': '^Behold he travaileth , 
with 'iniquity, and hath conceived mischief, and 
brought forth falsehood. He made a pit, and digged 
it, and is fallen into the ditch which he made. His 
mischief shall return upon his own head, and his 
violent dealing shall come down uj^on his own 
pate and then he adds, " I will praise the Lord." 
So also let the Christian bless and magnify Him, who 
by his infinite wisdom brings good out of evil, and in 
the case of the fugitive law, hatii caused the wrath 


But there is still a remainder of wrath. The law is 
still on the Statute Book, and hungiy politicians are 

Slave Act. 


promising that tliere it shall ever rcmaiD ; and terrible 
threats come from the south, of the ruin that shall 
overwhelm the free States, should the law be repealed 
or rendered less abominable than at present. Yet, 
spite of northern promises, and professions of securit\-, 
and in spite of the great swelling words of the dealers 
in human flesh, the practical^ like the moral w^orkipg 
of the law, has been very far from what its authors 
anticipated. The law was passed the 18th Septem- 
ber, 1850, and, in two years and nine months, not 
fifty slaves have been recovered under it — not an 
average of eighteen slaves a year! Poor compen- 
sation this to the slaveholders for making themselves 
a bye-word, a proverb, and a reproach to Christen- 
dom — for giving a new and mighty impulse to aboli- 
tion, and for deepening the detestation felt by the 
true friends of liberty and humanity, for an institu- 
tion asking and obtaining for its protection a law so 
repugnant to the moral sense of mankind. But while 
this artful and wdcked law, wdth its army of ten-dollar 
judges, and marshals, and constables, and office- 
seekers, and politicians, with the President and his 
cabinet all striving to enforce it, to the fullest ex- 
tent," has restored to their masters not eighteen slaves 


The Fugitive. 

a year ; the escapes from the prison house have prob- 
ably never been more numerous, nor the aid and 
sympathy afforded by Christians more abundant. 

STRAINED. In the marvellous conversion of this 
odious law into an anti-slavery agency, let us find a 
new motive for unceasing and unwearied agitation 
against slavery, and a new pledge of ultimate triumph. 

Bedford, June 1853. 

f^e ^i]e of ^mh. 

A QUAIXT old writer describes- a class of persons 
who liave souls so very small that 500 of them 
could dance at once upon the point of a cambric 
needle." These wee people are often wrapped up in 
a lump of the very coarsest of human clay, ponder- 
ous enough to give them the semblance of full-grown 
men and Vv^omen. A grain of mustard seed, buried in 
the heart of a mammoth pumpkin, would be no com- 
parison to the little soul, sheathed in its full grown 
body. The contrast in size would be insufl&cient to 
convey an adequate impression ; and the tiny soul has 
little of the mustard seed spiciness. 

Yet if this mass of flesh is only wrapped up in a 
white sJdrij even though it is not nearly thick enough 
to conceal the grossness and coarseness of the veiled 
material, the poor ^'feeble folk" within will fancy 

42 . 

The Size of Souls. 

that he really belongs to the natural variety of aristo- 
cratic humanity. He has the good taste to refuse 
condescension sufficient to allow him to eat at table 
\\'ith a Frederick Douglass, a Samuel E. Ward, or a 
Dr. Pennington. Poor light little soul ! It can 
borrow a pair of flea's legs, and, hopping up to the 
magnificent lights of public opinion, sit looking down 
upon the whole colored race in sovereign contempt. 

Take off the thin veneering of a white skin, substi- 
tute in its stead the real African ebony, and then 
place him side by side wuth one of the above-men- 
tioned men. Measure intellect with intellect — elo- 
quence with eloquence ! Mental and moral infancy 
stand abashed in the presence of nature's noblemen I 

So, mere complexion is elevated above character. 
Sensible men and women are not ashamed of the ac- 
knowledgment. The fact has a popular endorse- 
ment. People sneer at you if you are not ready to 
comprehend the fitness of the thing. If you cannot 
weigh mind in a balance with a moiety of coloring 
matter, and still let the mind be found wanting, ex- 
pect, in America, to lose cast yourself for want of 
approved taste. 

If sin is capable of being made to look mean, 

The Size of Souls. 


narrow, contemptible — to exhibit itself in its charac- 
ter of tliorougli, unmitigated bitterness — it is when 
exhibited in the light of our "peculiar" prejudices. 
Mind, Godlike, immortal mind, with its burden of 
deathless thought, its comprehensive and discriminat- 
ing reason, its brilliant wit, its genial humor, its 
store-house of thrilling memories — a voice of mingled 
power and pathos, words burning with the uncon- 
suming fire of genius, virtues gathering in ripened 
beauty upon a brave heart, and moral integrity pre- 
eminent over all else — all this could not make a black 
man the social equal of a white coxcomb, even though 
his brain were as blank as white paper, and his heart 
as black as darkness concentrated. May heaven al- 
leviate our undiluted stupidity ! 

Aktoikette L. Becwx. 

^intent Oge 

[Fragments of a poem hitherto unpublished, upon a revolt of the 
free persons of color, in the island of St. Domingo (now Ilayti^ 
in the years 1790-1.] 

There is, at times, an evening sky — 

The twiliglit's gift — of sombre hue, 
All checkered vnld and gorgeously 

With streaks of crimson, gold and blue ; — < 
A sky that strikes the soul with awe, 

And, though not brilliant as the sheen, 
"Wliich in the east at morn we saw^ 

Is far more glorious, I ween ; — 
So glorious that, when night hath come 
And shrouded it in deepest gloom, 
We turn aside with inward pain 
And pray to see that sky again. 
Such sight is like the struggle made 
When freedom bids unbare the blade, 

Vincent Oge. 


And calls from every mountain- glen — 

From every hill — from every plain, 
Her cliosen ones to stand like men, 

And cleanse their souls from every stain 
Which wretches, steeped in crime and blood, 
Have cast upon the form of God. 
Though peace like morning's golden hue. 

With blooming groves and waving fields, 
Is mildly pleasing to the view, 

And all the blessings that it yields 
Are fondly welcomed by the breast 

Which- finds delight' in passion's rest, 
That breast with joy foregoes them all. 
While listening to Freedom's call. 
Though red the carnage, — though the strife 
Be filled with groans of parting life, — 
Though battle's dark, ensanguined skies 
Give echo but to agonies — 

TJp shrieks of wild despairing, — 
We willingly repress a sigh — 
Nay, gaze with rapture in our eye, 
.Whilst Freedom !" is the rally-cry 

That calls to deeds of daring. 


The waves clasli briglitly on thy shore, 

Fair island of the southern seas ! 
As bright in joy as when of yore 

They gladly hailed the Genoese, — • 
That daring soul who gave to Spain 
A world — ^last trophy of her reign ! 
Basking in beauty, thou dost seem 
A vision in a poet's dream ! 
ThoTi look'st as though thou claim'st not birth 
"With sea and sky and other earth, 
That smile around thee but to show 
Thy beauty in a brighter glow, — 
That are unto thee as the foil 

Artistic hands have featly set 
Around Golconda's radiant spoil, 

To grace some lofty coronet, — 
A foil which serves to make the gem 
The glory of that diadem ! 

If Eden claimed a favored haunt. 

Most hallowed of that blessed ground, 

Where tempting fien-^ with gTiilefal taunt 
A resting-place would ne'er have found, — 

Vincent Oge. 


As shadowing it well might seek 

The loveliest home in that fair isle, 
"Which in its radiance seemed to speak 

As to the charmed doth B eanty's smile, 
That whispers of a thousand things 
For which words find no picturings. 
Like to the gifted Greek who strove 

To paint a crowning work of art, 
And form his ideal Queen of Love, - 

By choosing from each grace a part, 
Blending them in one beauteous whole, 
To charm the eye, transfix the soul, 
And hold it in enraptured fires. 
Such as a dream of heaven inspires, — 
So seem the glad waves to have sought 

From every place its richest treasure, 
And borne it to that lovely spot. 

To found thereon a home of pleasure ; — 
A home where balmy airs might float 

Through spicy bower and orange grove ; 
Where bright- winged birds might turn the note 

. Which tells of pure and constant love ; 
Where earthquake stay its demon force, 
And hurricane its wrathful course ; 

Vincent Oge. 

Where nympli and fairy find a liome, 

And foot of spoiler never come. 

* ^ 'X- ^ ^ -fj- * ^ 

And Oge stands mid this array 

Of matcliless beauty, but liis brow 
Is brightened not by pleasure's play ; 

He stands unmoved — nay, saddened now, 
As doth the lorn and mateless bird 
That constant mourns, whilst all unheard, 
The breezes freighted with the strains 
Of other songsters sweep the plain, — 
That ne'er breathes forth a joyous note^ 
Though odors on the zephyrs float — 
The tribute of a thousand bowers, 
Eich in their store of fragrant flowers. 
Yet Oge's was a mind, that joyed 

With nature in her every mood. 
Whether in sunshine unalloyed 

With darkness, or in tempest rude 
And, by the dashing waterfall, 

Or by the gently flowing river, 
Or listening to the thunder's call, 

He'd joy away his life forever. 
But ah ! life is a changeful thing, 

And pleasures swiftly pass away^ 

Vincent OgA* 


And we may turn^ witli sluiddering, 

From what we sighed for yesterday. 
The guest, at banquet-table spread 
With choicest viands, shakes with dread, 
Nor heeds the goblet bright and fair, 
Nor tastes the dainties rich and rare, 
Nor bids his eye with pleasure trace 
The wreathed flowers that deck the place, 
Jf he but knows there is a draught 
Among the cordials, that, if quaflfed, 
Will send swift poison through his veins. 

So Oge seems ; nor does his eye 
With pleasure view the flowery plains, 

The bounding sea, the spangled sky, 
As, in the short and soil twilight, 

The stars peep brightly forth in heaven, 
And hasten to the realms of night, 

As handmaids of the Even- 

The loud shouts from the distant town. 

Joined in with nature's gladsome lay ; 

The lights went glancing up and down, 

Eiv'ling the stars — nay, seemed as they 


Conld stoop to claim, in their high home, 

A sympathy ^h things of earth, 
And had from their bright mansions come. 
To join them in their festal mirth. 
For the land of the Gaul had arose in its mighty 
And swept by as the wind of a wild, wintry night*, 
And the dreamings of greatness — the phantoms of 

Had passed in its breath like the things of an hour. 
Like the violet vapors that brilliantly play 
Bound the glass of the chemist, then vanish away^ 
The visions of grandeur which dazzlingly shone, 
Had gleamed for a time, and all suddenly gone. 
And the febric of ages — ^the glory of kings, 
Accounted most sacred mid sanctified things, 
Reared up by the hero, preserved by the sage. 
And drawn out in rich hues on the chronicler's page. 
Had sunk in the blast, and in ruins lay spread, 
While the altar of freedom was reared in its stead. 
And a spark from that shrine in the free-roving 

Had crossed from fair France to that isle of the seas ; 
And a flame was there kindled which fitfully shone 
Mid the shout of the free, and the dark captive s groan ; 

Vincent Oge. 


As, mid contrary breezes, a torcli-liglit will play, 
Now streaming up brightly — now dying away. 
4f -jf If -se- -K- * -sf 

The reptile slumbers in the stone, 

Nor dream we of his pent abode ; 
The heart conceals the anguished groan, 
With all the poignant griefs that goad 
The brain to madness ; 
Within the hushed volcano's breast. 

The molten fires of ruin lie ; — 
Thus human passions seem at rest, 
And on the brow serene and high, 
Appears no sadness. 
But still the fires are raging there, 
Of vengeance, hatred, and despair; 
And when they burst, they wildly pour 

Their lava flood of Vv^oe and fear, 
And in one short — one little hour, 

Avenge the wrongs of many a year. 

And Oge standeth in his hall ; 

But now he standeth not alone ; — 
A brother 's there, and friends ; and all 

Are kindred spirits with his own ; 

Vincent Og£. 

For mind will join with kindred mind, 
As matter's with its like combined. 
They speak of wrongs they had received — 
Of freemen, of their rights bereaved ; 
And as they pondered o'er the thought 
Which in their minds so madly wrought, 
Their eyes gleamed as the hghtning's flash, 
Their words seemed as the torrent's dash 
That falleth, with a low, deep sound, 
Into some dark abyss profound, — 
A sullen sound that threatens more 
Than other torrents' louder roar. 
Ah ! they had borne well as they might, 

Such wrongs as freemen ill can bear ; 
And they had urged both day and night, 

In fitting words, a freeman's prayer ; 
And when the heart is filled with grief. 

For wrongs of all true souls accurst. 
In action it must seek relief, 

Or else, o'ercharged, it can but burst. 
Why blame we them, if they oft spake 
Words that were fitted to awake 
The soul's high hopes — ^its noblest parts — 
The slumbering passions of brave hearts, 

Vincent Oge. 


And send them as tlie simoom's breath, 
Upon a work of woe and death ? . 
And woman's voice is heard amid 

The accents of that warrior train ; 
And when has woman's voice e'er bid, 

And man could from its hest refrain ? 
Hers is the power o'er his soul 

That 's never wielded by another, 
And she doth claun this soft control 

As sister, mistress, wife, or mother. 
So sweetly doth her soft voice float 

O'er hearts by guilt or anguish riven. 
It seemeth as a magic note 

Struck from earth's harps by hands of heaven. 
And there 's the mother of Oge, 

Who with firm voice, and steady heart. 
And look unaltered, well can play 

The Spartan mother's hardj^ part ; 
And send her sons to battle-fields, 

And bid them come in triumph home, 
Or stretched upon their bloody shields, 

Eather than bear the bondman's doom. 
" Go forth," she srdd, to victory ; 
Or else, go bravely forth t© die ! 

Vincent Oge. 

Go fortli to fields where glory floats 
In every trumpet's cheering notes ! 
Go fortli, to where a freeman's death 
Glares in each cannon's fiery breath 1 
Go forth and triumph o'er the foe ; 
Or failing that, with pleasure go 
To molder on the battle-plain, 
Freed ever from the tyrant's chain ! 
But if your hearts should craven prove, 
Forgetful of your zeal — your love 
For rights and franchises of men, 
My heart will break ; but even then. 
Whilst bidding life and earth adieu. 
This be the prayer I'll breathe for you : 
' Passing from guilt to misery, 
May this for aye your portion be, — 
A life, dragged out beneath the rod — 
An end, abhorred of man and God — 
As monument, the chains you nurse — 
As epitaph, your mother's curse !' " 

7f -K' 'X' ^'c 4f 

A thousand hearts are breathing high, 
And voices shouting '^Victory !" 

Which soon will hush in death ; 

Vincent Oge. 


The trumpet clang of joy that speaks, 
Will soon be drowned in the shrieks 
Of the wounded's stifling breath, 
The tyrant's plume in dust lies low — 
Th' oppressed has triumphed o'er his foe. 
But ah ! the lull in the furious blast 
May whisper not of ruin past ; 
It may tell of the tempest hurrying on, 
To complete the work the blast begun. 
With the voice of a Syren, it may whisp'ringly tell 

Of a moment of hope in the deluge of rain ; 
And the shout of the free heart may rapturously swell, 

While the tyrant is gath'ring his power again. 
Though the balm of the leech may soften the smart, 

It never can turn the swift barb from its aim ; 
And thus the resolve of the true freeman's heart 
May not keep back his fall, though it free it from 

Though the hearts of those heroes all well could accord 
With freedom's most noble and loftiest word ; 
Their virtuous streng-th availeth them nought 
With the power and skill that the tyrant brought. 
Gray veterans trained in many a field 
Where the fate of nations with blood was sealed, 



In Italians vales — on the shores of the Rhine — 
Where the plains of fair France give birth to the vine — • 
Where the Tagus, the Ebro, go dancing along, 
Made glad in their course by the Muleteers song — 
All these were poured down in the pride of their 

On the land of Oge, in that terrible fight 
Ah ! dire vras the conflict, and many the slain, 
Who slept the last sleep on that red battle-pLun 1 
The flash of the cannon o'er valley and height 
Danced like the swift fires of a northern night, 
Or the quivering glare which leaps forth as a token 
That the King of the Storm from his cloud-throne 
has spoken. 

And oh ! to those heroes how welcome the fete 
Of Sparta's brave sons in Thermopylae's strait ; 
With what ardor of soul they then would have given 
Their last look at earth for a long glance at heaven I 
Their lives to their country — ^their backs to the sod — 
Their heart's blood to the sword, and their souls to 
their God ! 

But alas ! although many lie silent and slain, 

More blest ara they far than those clanking the 

VlNCEISTT Oofi. 57 

In the hold of the tyrant, debarred from the day ; — 
And among these sad captives is Vincent Oge ! 

•jf- * ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 

Another day's bft ght sun has risen, 

And shines upon the insurgent's prison ; 

Another night has slowly passed, 

And Oge smiles, for 'tis the last 

He'll droop beneath the tyrant's power— 

The galling chains ! Another hour, 

And answering to the jailor's call, 

He stands within the Judgment Hall. 

They've gathered there ; — ^they who have pressed 

Their fangs into the soul distressed. 

To pain its passage to the tomb 

With mock'ry of a legal doom. 

They've gathered there ; — ^they who have stood 

Firmly and fast in hour of blood, — 

Who've seen the lights of hope all die. 

As stars fade from a morning sky, — 

They've gathered there, in that dark hour — 

The latest of the tyrant's power, — 

An hour that speaketh of the day 

Which never more shall pass away, — 


THe glorious day beyond the grave, 
Which knows no master — owns no slave. 
And there, too, are the rack — ^the wheel — 
The torturing screw — the piercing steel, — 
Grim powers of death all cnfsted o'er 
With other victims' clotted gore. 
Frowning they stand, and in their cold, 
Silent solemnity, unfold 
The strong one's triumph o'er the weak — • 
The awful groan — ^the anguished shriek— 
The unconscious mutt'rings of despair — 
The strained eyeball's idiot stare — 
The hopeless clench — the quiv'ring frames 
The martyr's death — the despot's shame. 
The rack — ^the tyrant — victim, — all 
Are gathered in that Judgment Hall. 
Draw we the veil, for 'tis a sight 
But Mends can gaze on with delight. 
The sunbeams on the rack that play, 
For sudden terror flit away 
From this dread work of war and death. 
As angels do with quickened breath, 
From some dark deed of deepest sin, 
Ere they have drunk its spirit in. 

Vincent Oge. 

* * 4f -Jf ^ -x- * 

No mighty host with banners flying, 

Seems fiercer to a conquered foe, 
Than did those gallant heroes dying. 

To those who gloated o'er their woe ; — 
Grim tigers, who have seized their prey, 
Then turn and shrink abashed away ; 
And, coming back and crouching nigh, 
Quail 'neath the flashing of the eye, 
Which tells that though the life has started, 
The will to strike has not departed. 

Sad was your fate, heroic band ! 

Yet mourn we not, for yours' the stand 

Which will secure to you a fame. 

That never dieth, and a name 

That will, in coming ages, be 

A signal word for Liberty. 

Upon the slave's o'erclouded sky. 

Your gallant actions traced the bow, 
Which whispered of deliv'rance nigh-^ 

The meed of one decisive blow. 
Thy coming- fame, Oge ! is sure ; 
Thy name with that of L'Ouverture, 

60 VixcEXT Oge. 

And all tlie noble souls tliat stood 
"With both of you, in times of blood, 
Will live to be the tyrant's fear — 
Will live, the sinkinor soul to cheer ! 

Steacuse, N. August 3 1st, 1S53. 


f |e fall! of f ikrtiT 

JpEEEDOM, under tlie proper restraint of Law and 
Duty, is 2l political good, for that which is morally 
wrong can never be politically right. 

Fine moral sense will pour indignation on oppress- 
ion, as well as applause on worth. It will give 
sympathy to the afflicted, and treasures to reheve 
the needy. Such a spirit will exalt a nation, and 
command the respect of other nations. But general 
freedom can only flourish beneath the "imdisturbed 
dominion of equitable laws. 

Governments should aim at the welfare of the peo- 
ple, and that government which secures the person, 
the property, the liberty, the lives of dutiful subjects, 
and thus makes the common good the rule and meas- 
ure of its government, will receive a blessing from 


The Law of Liberty. 

Let America act on her own avowed principles, 
tliat every man is born free, and she will be exalted, 
when tyrannical, persecuting, slaveholding nations 
will come to nought. 

H. Canon of Worcester. 

FROM TEffi KNABEN T7UNDERH0RX. (b. I. p. ^3, et S€q.) 

The general at Grosswardein 
Had once a little daughter fine : — 
Her name was called Theresia, — 
God-loving, modest, chaste and fair : 

And from her childhood np was she 
Most deeply given to piety. 
With prayers and music's solemn tone 
She ever praised the Three-in-One. 

Whene'er she heard of Jesns' name, 
Her love and joy flamed brighter flame ; 
Jesus to serve she makes her cross, 
Devotes herself to be his Spouse. 

A noble lord came her to woo, 
Her father gave consent thereto ; 


The Swiftness 

The mother to her daughter said, — 

" Dear child, this man thou'lt surely ^red." 

The daughter said, Mother of me 
That can and must not ever be. 
My heart is fixed on higher ^orth, 
A Bridegroom he not of this earth." 

The mother then, " My daughter dear, 

Ah, do not contradict us here, 

Thy sire and I -^e both are old. 

And God has blessed our toil with gold," 

Thereat the maid began to weep, 
^' I have a lover beloved so deep. 
To him IVe made my promise down ; 
m wear for him a virgin crown." 

Thereat the sire, This must not be, 

My child away this phantasy, 

Where wilt thou dwell when past thy prime ? 

We both are old, far gone in time!" 

The noble lord agam draws near. 
And even the bridal feast prepare, 

or Ti:irE iiT God. 

For all tilings soon were ready made, — 
But sorrow veils the maiden's head. 

Quick to the garden, goeth she, 
There falls she down upon her knee, 
Out from her heart her prayer she poured 
To Jesus her espoused Lord. 

She lay before him on her face, 
And sighed with sighs to win his grace. 
The dearest Christ the clouds unrolled, 
**Look up," said he, ''my maid behold I 

*' Thou yet shalt be, in briefest time, 
In heaven with me in joy's full prime, 
And mid the lovely angels there, 
In full delight and joy appear." 

He greets the maiden wondrous fair : 
She stands before him without fear, 
Down cast her eyes with modest grace, — 
She felt the beauty of his face. 

Then speaks the youth, the heavenly King, 
And weds her with a golden ring ; — 

The Sttiftxess 

^'Look there, my bride ! Love's j)ledge for tliee, 
Oil, wear it on thy hand for me." 

The maiden then svreet vows took, 
'^Mj Bridegroom dear!"' to Christ she spoke, 
" Herewith art thou firm vred to me, 
Henceforth my heart loyes none but thee." 

Then walked abroad the married pair, 
And gathered many a blossom fair ; — 
Jesus thus spake to her anew : — 
" Come, and my loyely garden yiew !" 

He took the maiden by the hand. 
And led her from her fatherland, 
Unto his Father's garden fair 
Where many beauteous blossoms are. 

The maiden novr vdth joy may win 
The 23reciou3 fruits which grow therein ; 
But mortal fancy cannot know 
The noble fruits therein which grow. 

She hears such music and such song, 
That length of time seems nothing long, 

OF Time in God. 

And silver-wliite tlie brooklets there 
Flow ever on so pure and fair. 

The youth again addressed the maid, 
My garden here thou hast surveyed. 
I will again conduct thee home. 
To thine own land, the time is come." 

The maiden turns with grief away, 

Comes to the town without delay, 

The watchman calls, ^' Stand, who goes there? 

She says, I to my father must repair !" 

" Who is your father, then," quoth he. 

The general," she answers free. 
The watchman then replied and smiled, 
" The general ; — ^he has no child." 

But by her garments all men see. 

The maiden is of high degree. 

The watchman then conducts her straight 

Before the guardians of the State. 

The maid declares and stands thereto, 
The general is her father true. 

Tee S wiftne ss 

And bub two lionrs have scarcely flown, 
Since slie went out to walk alone. 

Tlie guardians saw a wonder great, 
And asked wkere she had been of late ; 
Her father's name, his power and race. 
That she must tell them face to face. 

They searched the ancient records through, 
And this they found was written true. 
That once was lost a bride so fine 
From this same city Grosswardein. 

The length of time they came to try, 
And sixteen years they find passed by ; 
And yet the maid was fresh and fair. 
As when first in her fifteenth year. 

Thereby the guardians understand 
This is the work of God's own hand. 
They bring the maiden food to eat, 
She turns white as a winding-sheet. 

Of earthly things I wish for nought," 
Cries she ; ^' but let a priest be brought, 

OF Time in G-od. 

That I may take ere deatli is sent, 
The body true in sacrament. 

As soon as this last act was done — 
And many a Christian looked thereon — 
Free from all pain and mortal smart, 
Then ceased to beat that holy heart. 

0isit of It - I'ugitibe ^[M U tfje (Bx^( 
d aalilkrforrc. 

AN a beautiful morning in the montli of June, 
^ while strolling about Trafalgar Square, I was at- 
tracted to the base of the Nelson column, where a 
crowd was standing gazing at the bas-relief represen- 
tations of some of the great naval exploits of the man 
whose statue stands on the top of the pillar. The 
death'wound which the hero received on board the 
Victor}^, and his being carried from the shijo's deck by 
his companions, is executed with great skill. Being 
no admirer of warlike heroes, I was on the point of 
turning away, when I perceived among the figures 
(which were as large as life) a full-blooded African, 
with as white a set of teeth as ever I had seen, and 
all the other peculiarities of feature that distinguish 
that race from the rest of the human family, with 



musket in hand and a dejected countenance, wliicli 
told that he had been in the heat of the battle, and 
shared with the other soldiers the pain in the loss of 
their commander. However, as soon as I savv^ my 
sable brother, I felt more at home, and remained 
lono'er than I had intended. Here was the iSTeo^ro, as 
black a man as was ever imported from the coast of 
Africa, represented in his proper place by the side of 
Lord ]Sr elson, on one of England's proudest monu- 
ments. How different, thought I, was the position 
assigned to the colored man on similar monuments in 
the United States. Some years since, w^hile standing 
under the shade of the monument erected to the mem- 
ory of the brave Americans who fell at the storm- 
ing of Fort Grriswold, Connecticut, I felt a degree of 
pride as I beheld the names of two Africans who had 
fallen in the fight, yet I was grieved bnt not sur- 
prised to find their names colonized off, and a line 
drawn between them and the whites. This was in 
keeping with American historical injustice to its 
colored heroes. 

The conspicuous place assigned to this represen- 
tative "of an injured race, by the side of one of Eng- 
land's greatest heroes, brought vividly before my eye 


A Fugitive Slave at 

the wrongs of Africa and tlie philanthropic man of 
Great Britain, who had labored so long and so sue 
cessfallj for the abolition of the slave trade, and the 
emancipation of the slaves of the West Indies ; and 
I at once resolved to pay a visit to the grave of Wil- 

A half an hour after, I entered Westminster Abbey, 
at Poets' Corner, and proceeded in search of the 
patriot's tomb ; I had, however, gone but a few steps, 
when I found myself in front of the tablet erected to 
the memory of Granville Sharpe, by the African 
Institution of London, in 1816 ; upon the marble was 
a long inscription, recapitulating many of the deeds 
of this benevolent man, and from which I copied the 
following: — He aimed to rescue his native country 
from the guilt and inconsistency of employing the 
arm of freedom to rivet the fetters of bondage, and 
estabhsh for the negro race, in the person of Somerset, 
the long-disputed rights of human nature. Having in 
this glorious cause triumphed over the combined re- 
sistance of interest, prejudice, and pride, he took his 
post among the foremost of the honorable band as- 
sociated to deliver Africa from the rapacity of Europe, 
by the abolition of the slave-trade ; nor was death 


permitted to interrupt liis career of usefulness, till lie 

had witnessed tliat act of the British Parliament by 

which the abolition was decreed." After viewing 

minutely the profile of this able defender of the 

negro's rights, which was finely chiselled on the 

tablet, I took a hasty glance at Shakspeare, on the one 

side, and Diyden on the other, and then passed on, 

and was soon in the north aisle, looking upon the 

mementoes placed in honor of genius. There stood a 

grand and expressive monument to Sir Isaac N"ewton, 

which was in every way worthy of the great man to 

whose memory it was erected. A short distance from 

that was a statue to Addison, representing the great 

writer clad in his morning gown, looking as if he 

had just left the study, after finishing some chosen 

article for the Spectator. The stately monument to 

the Earl of Chatham is the most attractive in this 

part of the Abbey. Fox, Pitt, Grattan, and many 

others, are here represented by monuments. I had 

to stop at the splendid marble erected to the memory 

of Sir Powell Buxton, Bart. A long inscription 

enumerates his many good qualities, and concludes by 

saying: — ^' This monument is erected by his friends 

and fellow-laborers, at home and abroad, assisted by 



A Fugitive Slave at 

the grateful contributions of many thousands of tlie 
African race." A few steps further and I was stand- 
ing over the ashes of Wilberforce. In no other place 
so small do so many great men lie together. ' The fol- 
lowing is the inscription on the monument erected to 
the memory of this devoted friend of the oppressed 
and degraded negro race : — 

To the memory of Willia:\i AVilberforce, born 
in Hull, August 24, 1759, died in London, July 29, 
1833. For nearly half a century a member of the 
House of Commons, and for six parliaments during 
that period, one of the two representatives for York- 
shire. In an age and country fertile in great and 
good men, he was among the foremost of those Avho 
fixed the character of their times; because to high 
and various talents, to warm benevolence, and to uni- 
versal candor, he added the abiding eloquence of a 
Christian life. Eminent as he was in every department 
of public labor, and a leader in every work of charitj^, 
whether to relieve the temporal or the spiritual wants 
of his fellow men, his name will ever be specially 
identified with those exertions which, by the blessings 
of God, removed from England the guilt of the Afri- 
can slave-trade, and prepared the way for the aboli- 



tion of slavery in every colony of the emjDire. In 
the prosecution of these objects, he relied not in vain 
on God; but, in the progress, he was called to en- 
dure great obloquy and great opposition. He out- 
lived, however, all enmit}^, ^nd, in the evening of his 
days, withdrew from public life and public observa- 
tion, to the bosom of his familj^ Yet he died not 
unnoticed or forgotten by his country ; the Peers and 
Commons of England, with the Lord Chancellor and 
the Speaker at their head, in solemn procession from 
their respective houses, carried him to his fitting place 
among the mighty dead around, here to repose, till, 
through the merits of Jesus Christ his only Eedeem^r 
and Saviour," whom in his life and in his writings he 
had desired to glorify, he shall rise in the resurrection 
of the just." 

The monument is a fine one ; his figure is seated on 
a pedestal, very ingeniously done, and truly expressive 
of his age, and the pleasure he seemed to derive from 
his own thoughts. Either the orator or the poet have 
said or sung the praises of most of the great men who 
lie buried in "Westminster Abbej^, in enchanting 
strains. The statues of heroes, princes, and statesmen 
are there to proclaim their power, worth, or brilliant 


A Fugitive Slave. 

genius, to posterity. But as time sliall step between 
them and the future, none "will be sought after with 
more enthusiasm or greater pleasure than that of 
Wilberforce. Iso man's philosophy was ever moulded 
in a nobler cast than his ; it was founded in the school 
of Christianity, which was, that all men are by nature 
equal ; that they are ^dsely and justly endowed by 
their Creator with certain rights which are irrefrag- 
able, and no matter how human j^ride and avarice 
may depress and debase, still God is the author of 
good to man ; and of evil, man is the artificer to him- 
self and to his species. Unlike Plato and Socrates, 
his mind was free from the gloom that surrounded 
theirs. Let the name, the worth, the zeal, and other 
excellent qualifications of this noble man, ever live in 
our hearts, let his deeds ever be the theme of our 
praise, and let us teach our children to honor and 
love the name of "Willliam "Wilberforce. 

Uuu J3- 

SaiTdtibe of %Mxt aiii} W^m. 

JT was a beautiful morning as ever glittered over tlie 
broad Atlantic. The sun liad tlie brightness and 
the sky the soft cerulean with which the month of 
June adorns the latitude of Carolina. The sea was 
not heavy nor rolling, but its motion was just enough 
to make its waves sparkle under the slanting rays of 
the morning sun. 

Mary stood with her betrothed in the bow of the 
boat, as it gracefully ploughed its way towards New 
York. She was only eighteen, and Albert was just 

Mary was on her way to Troy, to complete her 
studies in the excellent institution for young ladies, 
which has sent out some of the brightest ornaments 
of their sex, to refine and bless the world. She had 
been entrusted to Albert's care, who was to spend 

78 Narrative of 

his Slimmer in New York, in tlie pursuit of the legal 
profession. They were both CarolinianSj and had no 
little of that ardent spirit which distinguishes the 
youth of the South; while their well-developed 
forms, their intellectual countenances, and their sen- 
sible speech, placed them in association beyond their 

As Mary leaned upon the arm of her gallant pro-, 
tector, their conversation sparkled as the ocean spray 
that dashed against steamer's bow. But suddenly, as 
the jet black eye of Albert Gillon caught the soft 
blue of Mary's, he started at the discovery of a tear 
trembling upon her eye-lash. 

Sweet Mary, what saddens you ?" 

*'Ah! Albert, the greatest trial of my feelings is 
the thought that you have never yet consecrated 
yourself to Christ.'' 

"I have," replied Albert, ^' no natural repugnance 
to religion. On the contrary, I see and acknowledge 
God in all his works and in all his providence, as the 
author and supreme ruler of all things. But, Mary, 
I do not understand the God of the Bible. I do not 
understand how they who claim to be God's owd 
people, and have the distinguishing title of Chris- 

Albert and Mary. 


tians, are, many of them, far worse in moral charac- 
ter, than those who make no such profession. I do 
not mean hypocrites ; but those who are actually 
respected as orthodox Christians. There is Mr. 
Verse, of Philadelphia, for instance, who has a high 
place as a religious editor, and discusses the doctrines 
of Christianity with a zeal which shows he takes deep 
interest in his work, and yet young as I am, and gay 
as I am, I can see that in his practical application of 
Christianity, he teaches sentiments at variance with 
the plainest principles of moral truth ; and he sets 
himself against those whose moral character is above 
reproach ; and rebukes them as infidels in their very 
efforts to elevate the moral tone of society. How is 
it that Mr. Verse is recognized as a Christian, and 
these excellent men are avoided as infidels? "Why 
is he fit for heaven, and they must be cast down to 
hell ? I don't understand it." 

"I know," replied Mary, ^'that vnsev heads than 
mine find difi&culty in answering your question ; and 
it would be presumptuous in me to signify that I can 
solve it to your satisfaction. But still, Albert, your 
observations only confirm, in my own mind, your 
total ignorance of what constitutes a Christian. Al- 


Nakrative of 

"bert, it is not morality ; it is not consistency of praC' 
tice with profession ; it is not the doing right that 
makes a Christian, for if man could have attained to 
entire correctness in morals, there would have been 
no such thing as Christianity. But it is because of 
man's wickedness and his inconsistency, both in the- 
ory and in practice, that the Christian religion is pre- 
sented as the means of attaining to salvation, Christ 
makes the Christian — the Christian in Christ and 
Christ in the Christian — a loving, affectionate, en- 
dearing union — of ignorance with wisdom, of infir- 
mity with strength, of immorality with virtue. Christ 
throws his robe of righteousness over the follies and 
the wickedness of the converted soul, and by cover- 
ing him with himself, gradually similates him to him- 
self until Avhat is carnal being cast off, the spiritual 
remains at death a pure child of God." 

^'Dear me, Mary, you look lovely as you speak this 
mysterious theology. And I really pant after such 
feelings as I see beaming from your countenance ; 
but you might just as well speak to me in Arabic 
for any understanding I can have of this thing called 
Christianity. It must be something good, or it could 
not thus fill your own soul, intelligent as you are, 

Albert and Mary. 


with a joy tliat makes you indifferent to those gaieties 
of life wHch give me pleasure." 

You need/' said Mary, " the teacliings of God's 
spirit. You know I took delight in those things a 
year ago, but God's spirit taught me that I was sin- 
ning in partaking of them. I was at Fayolle's, danc- 
ing, and, in the midst of a figure in the cotillon, my 
head became giddy, and I had to be supported to a 
seat. I soon recovered, but the thought of a sudden 
death distressed me, for it came very forcibly to my 
mind — I am a wicked sinner." 

" 0, Mary, Mary," interrupted Albert, " you did 
not think yourself a sinner !" 

Yes, Albert, I did. I had never thought so be- 
fore, but had rather prided myself upon being called 
a good girl by all my acquaintances. But I now saw 
things in a different light ; and when I went home 
and began self-examination, I soon found I had a very- 
wicked heart. I tried to do better, but the more 1 
tried to live unto God the more I discovered the 
proneness of my heart to sin. I tried to think good 
thoughts, and evil thoughts came directly in my way 
to mar my peace. Day after day I made effort to 

purify my thoughts. It was all in vain. A pure 



Narrative of 

thought immediately suggested its opposite, and I 
found mj^self more familiar with the evil than the 
good. It shocked me. But I peneti^ted deeper and 
deeper into my own heart — into the iniquity of my 
soul, until I despaired of ever sounding its depth. 1 
then cried to God to have mercy on me. He heard 
my prayer, and Jesus Christ came to my help. I felt 
that he had suffered in my stead, and had poured out 
his blood as an atonement for my sins. I found peace 
to my soul as I cast myself, a poor, helpless sinner, 
upon his atoning altar, and bathed m^j^self in his all- 
cleansing blood." 

Mary could proceed no farther, for the tears began 
to flow too rapidly, and her emotion might have been 
noticed by others than Albert. 

The wind, too* began to rise, and it blew so fresh 
that they retired to the cabin, vrhere Albert occifpied 
himself with a game of chess, and Mary read, with 
evident pleasure, such parts of her dearly -prized Bible 
which suited the state of her mind, occasionally call- 
ing Albert's attention to some passage particularly 

In the afternoon, Mary took her seat in a position 
to enjoy the best view of the v.'-estern sky, in which 

Albert and Mary. 


floated, in all their gorgeoiisness, the variegated sun-lit 

Albert soon joined her. ^'Well, Mar j, you seem 
to l>e meditating ; but allow me to participate in the 
luxury of your reflections upon that splendid horizon." 

Indeed, Albert, I was thinking how much more 
impressive is such scenery than the traveller on land 
enjoys. In the rapid succession of scenery and 
variety of faces, as the coach or the steam car drives 
rapidly onward, everything one sees increases the 
mind's confusion. Whatever he casts his eye upon, 
worthy of admiration, attracts his attention but a 
moment ; and the sublimity of mountain heights, the 
gaudy decorations of fertile valleys, and the frowning 
grandeur of rocks, as they cast their dark shadow 
upon some foaming torrent, flit by him as a dream of 
twilight, and ISave upon his memory only pencil out- 
lines of the beautiful and the sublime. Not so the 
voyager on the ocean. Here the beautiful imprints 
itself ineffaceably in all its sparkling and its gorgeous 
variety upon the enchanted mind, and the grand and 
the sublime raise such a tempest of wonder in the 
Boul that the ocean ever after rolls its foaming waves 
over the broad expanse of memory.'^ 



' Mary," said Albert, these clouds, floating so 
gracefiill J on the ocean, and this gorgeous horizon in- 
spiring your poetic fimcy, are something more than 
mere sky drapery, for you'll perceive that the wind is 
becoming boisterous, and 1 fear vre are goiag to have 
a stormy night." 

^* You do not feel alarmed, do you Albert?'' 

" I cannot say I feel alarmed ; but I vrould be more 
comfortable at this time if I had not so precious a 
charge. There may be no real danger, but there can 
be no harm in preparing for what might happen. If 
we should have a storm I wish you would take your 
seat on that large box, so as to appropriate it and keep 
it. Your father brought me two life-preservers and 
a good cord, when we came on bpard, and charged me 
to use them in case of accident. You smile, Mary, at 
my earnestness, and perhaps my love for you induces 
anxiety which circumstances do not warant. Still you 
can keep in mind my directions." 

Albert walked towards the hov,' of the steamer, 
while Mary again fixed her att^tion upon the varie- 
gated clouds. She did not participate in Albert's 
apprehensions, and thought his anxiety needless. Yet 
his earnest request made that sort of impression upon 

Albert and Mary. 


her mind wliicTi rather conduced to religious con- 

The broad disk of the sun could be seen through 
the floating cloud, and as Albert returned, Mary re- 
marked : — '^Albert, an hour ago I tried to look at 
the sun, but his light dazzled my eyes to bhndness. 
I could not mark its shape nor perceive its beauty. 
But now the cloud floats before it, and through its 
light vapor I see the sun's circular infinity, and ad- 
mire its beauty and its glorj^ undazzled by its efful- 
gence. So it is I see God through Christ, as he trans- 
mits the glory of his Father. And it is by thus see- 
ing God through Christ, instead of by the eyes of 
intellect and mere mental observation, that I obtain 
hope in God and feel prepared to enter upon the 
realities of that world which is eternally lighted by 
the invisible presence of Jehovah. Seeing him in 
Christ Jesus, I feel an assurance of his mercy, and 
am freed from those apprehensions which your scep- 
ticism and distrust occasion yourself" 

" My dear Mary," replied Albert, ^' do not suppose 
my counsel to you originated in any fear for myself 
personally. It may be from want of reflection, but 
really I do not know what the fear of death is. Your 


Narrative of 

safety, Mary, is tlie cause of niy present anxiety. I 
do not doubt J'our preparation for eternity, but I am 
not willing to resign you jet to the companionsliip 
of angels. If you perisli beneath these billows, and I 
survive, my hope for happiness in this life is blasted. 
What is to be beyond the grave I know not ; and 
my religion concerns the life that now is. I must 
make the best of time, and leave eternity to be taken 
account of when I am fairly launched into it. Per- 
haps enjojdng this world with j'ou, I might learn 
from you to prepare for eternity. At present my 
care must be to get my dear Mary safely over this 
treacherous ocean." 

The sun now sank beneath the western horizon. 
The variegated colors of the sky were rapidly com- 
mingling into one dense canopy of gloom. 

The passengers earnestly inquired of the captain 
about the prospect. He hoped to run into the port 
of Wilmington, but he exhorted them to have brave 
hearts for the dai}2:er was imminent. The storm was 
rapidly increasing. All urged that the pressure of 
steam be increased to the utmost capacity of the boat. 

0, what an anxious crowd were upon the deck of 
tkat steamer, as they strained their eyes towards the 

Albert A-Nd Mary. 


land, and anon lost their balance by the dashing of 
the billows! The lightning played with terrific splen- 
dor, alternating Vvith the blackness of the heavens; 
and the roar of the waves was only hushed by the 
awful artillery of the skies, 

Mary was sitting where Albert had directed, await- 
ing with great calmness the result of the storm, 

Albert carefully fastened her with a cord to the 
box, having first placed beneath her arms the life- 
preserver. Placing another life-preserver around him- 
self, he stood by Mary's side with watchful anxiety. 
Suddenly a heavy sea threw the boat forcibly to one 
side, and Albert mechanically stretching forth his 
hand to save himself, accidentally got caught in the 
rope that he had entwined about the box, and with 
Mary was tossed into the sea and overwhelmed with 
the waves. 

The steamer was several hundred yards ahead of 
them before Albert succeeded in adjusting his posi- 
tion to maintain a good hold upon the box. His G-vkt 
thought was to examine how Mary was situated. 
The lio-htnins: o^ave him sufficient assurance that she 
was alive and unhurt. At that moment a dreadful 
explosion directed their eyes towards the steamer, 


Narrative of 

and the aTrful siglit ^as exHbitecl of their late asso- 
ciates blown into the air and then sinking beneath 
the waves. 

The loss of the Pulaski has made many a flowing 
tear. But few were left to tell the horrors of that 
night. The public are familiar with their description 
of the sad disaster. But they knew not the fate of 
Albert and Mary, and only added them to the cata- 
logue of the lost 

It was with the greatest difficulty that Albert 
could afford his charge any aid, and they must both 
soon have perished if the storm had been long pro- 
tracted. But fortunately, the wind shifting, the 
clouds were soon dispersed, and the stars shone out 

Before morning they were rescued from their peril- 
ous situation, and found themselves, on recovering 
from their exhaustion, in the comfortable cabin of a 
fast-saihng brig. The storm, although exceedingly 
perilous to a steamboat, was not such as to damage a 
well-trimmed vessel ; and the brig, soon after the ex- 
plosion, bore down towards the A^Tcck, and recovered 
from a watery grave the interesting subjects of our 

Albert and Maky. 


Mary was taken on board in a state of entire un- 
consciousness, wliile Albert was too mucli interested 
for her to make any special observation of the persons 
by whom they were rescued. 

After seeing her sufficiently restored to animation 
to be left to repose, he retired from her state-room 
and suffered himself to be assisted to a berth. 

The sun was high in the heavens when they were 
awaked from their slumber and invited to breakfast. 
Every accommodation in the way of dry clothing was 
supplied them, and they met in the saloon of the brig 
to embrace, in the transport of grateful hearts. 

Having recovered their self-possession, they looked 
around for their dehverers. None were in the saloon 
with them but a highly-accomplished looking lady 
and the steward and stewardess. 

The lady saluted xhem in the blandest and most 
refined manner, and expressed her sincere gratifica- 
tion that they had been so soon delivered from their 
perilous situation, and were already so well recovered 
from their exhaustion. 

To whom, Madam," said Albert, are we in- 
debted for these expressions of kindness and tender 
solicitude ?" 


Narrative of 

''I am. sir. the wife of the c^iptain and master of 
this brig. My husband will pay you his respects as 
soon as you have partaken of some of this warm 
Java and these hot rolls.'' 

"I would not," said Mary, be doing justice to my 
own feelings were I to sit down to breakfast without 
first asking your hberty, Madam, to read a beautiful 
psalm which occurs to my mind at this moment" 

"Certainly," said the lady ; and, steward, invite 
the chaplain in to offer prayer. Doubtless it will be 
perfectly agreeable to our young guests.'' 

A reverend and benevolent looking gentleman, in 
black, soon entered from the deck, and, in the kindest 
manner and address, saluted the young couple, ex- 
pressing, with deep emotion, his sympathy with them 
and his anxiety in their behalf 

Mary pointed out to him the Psalm she had selected. 
He read it: made a few highly-appropriate comments, 
and, while ail knelt, such a strain of grateful praise 
and of fervent prayer flowed from the lips of the 
vrarm-hearted minister as seldom is surpassed. 

Mr. Gracelius, for this was the minister's name, was 
of the orthodox faith, and had long been engaged in 
preaching the doctrines of the Calvinistic school. Yet 

Albert and Mary. 


he was not bigoted or rigid. His heart was full of the 
milk of human kindness, and he carried conviction to 
his hearers, not more by the strength of his logic than 
the benignity of his address. He was just such a 
minister as the devout and accomphshed Mary St. 
Clair would have full confidence in. She was de- 
lighted to think that she had been so fortunate as to 
meet such a friend and spiritual counsellor at such a 
time ; and she at once gave utterance to the warm 
feelings of her heart, and begged that Mr. Gracelius 
would feel at perfect liberty to counsel and advis3her. 

My advice then is, my dear young sister, that 
first of all you sit down to your breakfast, and allow 
Mrs. Templeton to help you and the young gentleman 
to 3-our coffee."' 

Albert and Mary could not but feel that they had 
fallen among true friends. And, having eaten a 
cheerful breakfast, they both expressed their sincere 
gratitude to their kind hostess, which she received 
with equally deep emotion. 

Captain Templeton now entered, and with great 
courtcousncss, blended with warmth of address, gave 
his hand to Albert, and, with a graceful bow to Mary, 
expressed the pleas'ore he felt in having rescued them 


Narrative of 

from a watery grave. And now, my young friends," 
said tlie Captain, I ^dsli you to make yourselves per- 
fectly at tome in my vessel ; and as soon as I can 
witli safety restore you to your friends, I sliall do so." 

" Permit me to inqu.ire," said Albert, to wliat port 
you are destined ?" 

We do not go into any harbor in the United 
States," replied tbe Captain ; but should we meet 
with a merchant vessel under favorable circumstances, 
you will be placed on board." 

Is not this a merchant vessel ?" inquired Albert. 
" No, sir. This is an armed brig." 

Of what nation ?" asked Albert. 
The Captain smiled as, with a courteous bow, he 
rephed, We are pirates ;" and immediately went on 
deck, leaving Albert and Mary in perfect amazement. 

Eecovering himself in a moment, Albert said to 
Mrs. Templeton : ^' Your husband is very jocose !" 

No, sir ; he was serious in what he said. We are 
pirates. But jovl need be under no apprehension of 
danger, nor feel the slightest alarm. I know that you 
have been trained to believe that pirates are neces- 
sarily devoid of humane feelings, and are ever thirst- 
ing for blood. But I trust we are as hospitable and 

Albert and Mary. 


kind a people to our guests, as are to be found on 

Albert and Mary were indeed tbe guests of a pirat- 
ical crew ; but they were soon relieved of all appre- 
liension of personal danger ; for there was tliat in the 
deportment of all on board which satisfied them of a 
sincere desire to serve and accommodate them in 
every way. 

A few days brought them into such intimacy with 
the crew that they spoke with freedom, even on the 
subject of piracy. They were indeed astonished to 
find that even Mr. Gracelius advocated the claims of 
pirates as a civilized and religious people. 

On board the brig they had morning and evening 
prayers, and a lecture one evening in the week, and 
two sermons on the Sabbath. What seemed particu- 
larly remarkable was the sound evangelical faith of 
the Captain and his family, and the unexceptionable 
doctrines that were preached by their minister. There 
was so much fervor, earnestness, and pathos in the 
sermons of Mr. Gracelius, that Mary was constrained 
to admit to Mrs. Templeton that she had never heard 
* better. 

They had been on the brig about three weeks, 


Narrative of 

without any event calculated to disturb the sensibili- 
ties of our young friends, beyond the unaccountably 
strange sentiments of the piratical crew. Everything 
was conducted with so much order and propriety, 
good taste and moral deportment, that they could 
scarcely believe at times otherwise than that a mere 
sportive hoax was being played upon them. 

But the tranquil, social pastimes were now inter- 
rupted by a new scene of action. 

It was a pleasant morning ; a gentle breeze filled 
the sails. An unusual arrangement of the vessel at- 
tracted the attention of Albert. Soon he observed 
men at the guns, and Captain Templeton standing in 
a commanding position. The brig was bearing down 
upon a French merchantman. 

Albert hastened to Mary, and disclosed to her the 
state of things. Mary at first trembled, but soon com- 
posed herself with trust in God. Albert, taking her 
arm into his, led her to where Captain Templeton was 
standing : 

Captain," said Albert, I perceive you are bear- 
ing down upon that merchant vessel. Is it your 
object to place us on board, or do you design to cap- * 
lure her ?" 

Albert and Mary. 


" Mr. Gilion," replied the Captain, I shall see to 
it that 3'ou and your young charge are safely provided 
for ; and that you may be perfectly easy on that score, 
I now inform you that when I take possession of that 
merchantman, I shall make arrangements for you to 
be taken in her to a suitable port, whence you can 
find your way to your friends. Be composed now, 
and pay such attention to Miss St. Clair as the un- 
usual occasion may seem in your judgment to require. 
In a few moments we shall have something to do, and 
perhaps a necessity to use our guns. But I hope not. If 
you will retire to the cabin, Mrs. Templeton will enter- 
tain you there better than you are likely to be on deck." 

There was so much politeness in the Captain's man- 
ner, and yet evident fixedness of purpose, that Albert 
attempted no answer. There was now no doubt that 
their hospitable entertainers were pirates. They re- 
tired to the cabin, and sat there in profound silence. 
Soon Mrs. Templeton came in,^and in her gentle win- 
ning manner began to prepare Mary for the scenes 
that might transpire. 

You must not be alarmed, my dear. You will 
be perfectly safe. I only regret we are so soon likely 
to lose your company." 


Narrative of 

"0 Mrs. Templeton!" said Mary, "how can you 
prosecute sucli a life ! It is so wicked ! Excuse me, 
ma'am, but I cannot suppress my feelings of horror." 

At this moment the conversation was interrupted 
by the entrance of Captain Templeton, who, with a 
calm countenance, said : — 

" Wife, I perceive that there are several guns on 
that vessel, and I judge that the crew and passengers 
are somewhat numerous. We shall have to proceed 
with caution, and as we are hkely to have somewhat 
of a warm time, I think I should feel better satisfied 
to have a season of prayer." 

Albert knit his brow in moody silence. Mary 
heaved a deep sigh. Mr. Gracelius was called in, 
and having read the 20th Psalm, he offered up the 
following prayer : — 

" Oh ! Thou mighty Q-od of Jacob, who didst accom- 
pany Thine ancient Israel through all their trials, and 
didst fight their battles for them, we thank Thee that 
Thou hast taught us to put our trust in Thee. And 
we beseech Thee, oh ! blessed Father, for the sake of 
Thine own Son Jesus Christ, to help us at this time in 
our endeavor to appropriate to the support of this 
branch of thy Zion, the treasures which, for the mere 

Albert and Mart. 


purposes of an unliallowed commerce, are being 
transported to that people who have ever distin- 
guished themselves by their infidelity, and by their 
scorn of all true religion ; who have also by their 
mighty leaders devastated kingdoms and shed seas of 
blood to gratify a 'ain -glorious ambition. 

• Oh ! Lord, we v'ould not shed blood needlessly, 
and we therefore pra / Thee to enable us in the ap- 
proaching conflict, to have a single eye to Thy glory, 
and thus preserve a caim and kind, temper, whatso- 
ever may be the resistance offered on this occasion. 
And wilt Thou, Lord, as>'ist our beloved captain to 
do his duty, and to so command his men and order 
the battle, that when all shah be over, he may have 
a conscience void of offence towards God and to- 
wards man. And whatsoever treasures may come to 
us, may we gratefully employ in Thy service and to 
Thy glor}^, remembering that Jesus Christ, who died 
for us and rose again for our justification, first became 
poor, that we through his poverty might be made 
rich, and therefore that we ought to use our wealth 
to the advancement of Christianity in our own souls 
and among our fellow-beings, as the best evidence of 

our gratitude for our earthly prosperity, and for those 



NakPwAtiye of 

treasures wliicli are laid up for us in heaven ; and to 
Thy gracious name, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, be 
the praise forever. Amen:'' 

The tone of the chaplain's voice, the fervid manner 
and the striking pathos of this short prayer, had a 
strong effect upon Captain Temr eton and his wife. 
They both rose from their kncjs with tears in th^ 

The Captain grasped the aand of Mr. Gracelius, 
and earnestly said: '^I feel srrengthened, m}' brother; 
and I can now say. If the Lord be for us, who can be 
against us I*' He then passad out and resumed his 
position on the deck. 

'^Miss St. Clair," said Mrs. Templeton, ''do you 
think that can be Aviokedness which the Lord sancti- 
fies with his communion ?*' 

Before Mary could reply, the loud report of 
a cannon gave notice that the action had com- 

The struggle was a short one, the French vessel was 
captured, with the loss of her commander, who fell at 
the first fire. It took but a short time to have all on 
the merchantman in fetters, and the vessel manned by 
the pirates. 

Albert axd Mary. 


It was not until the morning after tlie capture that 
matters became composed on the pirates' vessel, and 
eyerything in usual order. 

At breakfast Mary took the liberty to ask the Cap- 
tain what he designed to do with his prisoners. 

I always endeavor,'' he replied, to remember the 
obligations of humanity and Christianity. Some- 
times, for our own safety, we are compelled to put our 
captives to death, but I do so always with great re- 
luctance, and never without prayer to God that their 
souls might be saved. In this case I think we shall 
not be under this painful necessity." 

" Captain," said Albert, it is perfectly unaccount- 
able to me how a man of your naturally humane and 
benevolent disposition can engage in this business of 
robbery and murder." 

^' Well, Mr. Gillon," replied the Captain, I make 
every allowance for one who has been educated as 
you have been, and taught that pirates were only 
worthy of the gallows ; although I cannot but feel 
that your language is not such as your refined and 
polished manners would warrant me to expect and 
require. Our business is not robbery and murder. 
The laws under which we live, both social and politi- 


Naerative of 

cal, are as clecidedlj opposed to siicli crimes as among 
any other people.'' 

I did not," replied Albert, " intend to be nngentle- 
manlj in my language, and was not a^vare that these 
terms were offensive to yon. But, sir, you only in- 
crease my amazement. I cannot comprehend how 
you can characterize your business by terms more ap- 
propriate. Is it not so that piracy is but the practice 
of robbery and murder, when it takes a^vay a man's 
possessions, and then destroj'S his life to make the 
booty secure?'' 

I perceive, Mr. Gillon, that you labor under the 
delusion that all pirates are bad and cruel men. I 
confess, sir, there are many of our people who treat 
their prisoners with unnecessary severity, and fre- 
quently inflict death when the occasion does not de- 
mand it. But, my dear sir, this is the abuse of piracy, 
not its legitimate u^e." 

And do you really mean to say. Captain Temple- 
ton," said Mary, ^'that piracy can be made an honor- 
able business?" 

^' Of course I do, miss," rephed the Captain, and I 
regTet that Miss St. Clair can suppose I would engage 
in a business that I did not believe to be honorable." 

Albeet and Mary. 


" But, Captain, jou profess to be a Christian, and it 
is a great mystery to me how you can reconcile your 
profession with 3-our practice. Surely you do not be- 
lieve that the Scriptures justify such a life." 

" That is precisely my belief, Miss," replied the Cap- 
tain. Piracy is a Bible institution, and if it were 
not so, I would abandon it at once." 

''Ah!" said Albert, "that accounts for it. It is 
that belief in the Bible that leads the mind and the 
heart astray from the clear principles of a sound moral 
philosophy. Even my good Mary, here, is so warped 
by her reverence for the Bible, that she defends the 
institution of slavery, which. I abhor with, all my 
heart. But, Captain, although I am not surprised at 
your belief that the Bible sanctions piracy, since it is 
quoted by Christians in support of all sorts of wicked- 
ness, I am surprised that a man of your good sense 
and keen moral perception in regard to other matters 
of life, should not perceive that slavery, and piracy, 
and war, and everything of the sort, are irreconcil- 
able with sound morality." 

''I do not know," replied the Captain, ''what 
might be the conclusions of abstract reasoning upon 
the subject dutside of the Bible, for I have never 


Narrative of 

thouglit very profoundly about it. But I feel satisfied 
so long as I have tlie assurance that the levealed 
Word is on my side." 

But, Captain," said Mary, "I am not willing to 
allow that the Bible is on your side. It shocks me to 
hear you say so." 

Well, Miss St. Clair, I must turn you over to bro- 
ther Gracelius, who is well posted up in Bible matters. 
He will be able to show you that piracy is a Bible in- 

^' Yes, my young sister," said Mr. Gracelius, who 
had not been inattentive to the conversation, while he 
was enjoying an excellent cup of coffee. The Scrip- 
tures do most ccrtivinly sanction the institution of 

Here Mr. Gracelius took from his pocket a small 
Bible, and proceeded to say : On such a question, I 
am strongly disposed to j/ass by all ethical and meta- 
physical dissertation, and v'xppeal at once to the only 
standard of right and wrong ^vhich can prove decisive. 
It is the responses of the sail fed oracles to which we 
must after all appeal." 

"I could wish, Mr. Graceli^r^ ' said Albert, that 
you would discuss this question ^at\er uJ)on the foun- 

Albert and Mary. 


dation principles of morality, thaa by arguments from 
a volume whicli sanctions war, slavery, death penal- 
ties, and a liost of other evils, by the very confessions 
of Christians themselves." 

I perceive," said Mr. Gracelius, that you, sir, 
have never yet learned the true grace of God through 
regeneration, or you too would bow submissively to 
the teachings of the sacred Scriptures, and acknowl- 
edge them as the highest standard of right and moral- 
ity. I cannot, therefore, hope to seriously affect your 
mind by an appeal to the Bible. But Miss St. Clair, being 
a Christian, will feel the force of such high authority." 

" Truly, Mr. Gracelius," said Mary, I do take the 
Bible as my highest standard of truth ; and it is from 
the principles taught by the Bible that I have the 
assurance that piracy is awfully criminal. And I am 
utterly astonished that a man of your apparent piety, 
and who so well understands the doctrines of Chris- 
tianity, can for a moment think that the Bible justifies 
such crimes." 

My dear young sister," said the minister, you 
are begging the question when you call piracy a crime, 
for that is the very thing you are to prove. But let 
lis see what piracy is : 


Narrative of 

In order to clear away rubbish, and to arrive at 
once at tlie point, let me remind you that it is simply 
the essential character of piracy which we are discuss- 
ing. Piracy itself is nothing more tTian the appro- 
priating of the products of another's labor and skill, 
without his consent or contract. The absence of the 
coiftract, or the consent of the producer, does not alter 
the nature and extent of the pirates' right. The case 
is analogous to that of parents and children. A father 
has a right to the productions of his child's labor 
during his minority, without the contract or consent 
of the child, and he may even transfer that right. But 
I grant that this does not justify the father in doing 
anything to the detriment of the child, either morally, 
intellectually, or physically. And, beyond doubt, 
this is the true light in which Christianity would have 
pirates regard their relations. The capture of a vessel, 
and the treatment of prisoners, involve a great respon- 
sibility. Nothing more should be done than is abso- 
lutelj essential to the maintenance of the peculiar 
institutions of piracy. It is not the relation of the 
pirate to the producer or prisoner which is sinful, but 
infidelity to the solemn trust which that relation 
creates. It does not follow, because he has a right to 

Albert akd Mart. 


the produce of another's labor or skill, that he has 
also a right to inflict "unnecessary violence on his per- 
son, or take from him all means of livelihood. When- 
ever it can be done, without jeopardizing the well- 
being and interests of our society and institutions, we 
ought to spare the prisoner's life, make him comfort- 
able while in our hands, place him as soon as possible 
where he can return to his home, and leave him means 
enough to keep him from starving or absolute desti- 

^' To include in the idea of piracy, that also of rob- 
bery and murder, is to confound two things entirely 
distinct, and which really have no sort of connection. 
If I take from another that which I have no right to 
by the laws of the society or government under which 
I live, then 1 am a robber ; for that alone is property 
which the law makes property, as one of your own 
great statesmen has very properly, said ; and if I take 
life, when not essential to maintain my own rights 
under the laws of that government which I recognize 
in my social obligations, I am a murderer. I therefore 
insist upon it, that, in discussing this subject, we re- 
gard as appropriate to the question only the es- 
sential elements of piracy, and not its abuses; for 



JSTaeratiye of 

piracy may exist without inflicting these aggravated 

" Christian pirates have great regard for the welfare, 
temporal and spiritual, of their fellow-beings, and 
oftentimes exercise the spirit of the most self-denying 
missionaries. Such men and women do honor to 
human nature. They are the true friends of their 

^'iSTow, here is piracy — a system of society and 
government which gives opportunity to inculcate 
among gi'aceless men who fall into our hands the 
principles of the Gospel of Christ; and many an 
ungodly man has had the opportunity in our cabin 
of hearing the doctrines of the cross, who^ whilst 
immersed in the business, and cares, and pleasures of 
hfe, never darkened the door of a meeting-house on 
land. And many of them have been converted to 
the Christian faith, and have become excellent and 
v\^orthy Christian pirates. 

Those of our caj^tains who have Christian sailors 
under them have the best-managed vessels ; and 
really their crews do more of effective work, both in 
battle and in ship duties, than any ungodly crew that 
can be found. 

Albert and Mary. 


" No, Sister Mary, depend upon it, yon have im- 
bibed a prejudice against piracy, and you suppose it 
to involve all sorts of crime. But the true question 
of issue between us is pruned to this : — Is it neces- 
sarily a crime in the sight of God to control the 
property, or curtail the personal liberty, or take the 
life of a human being in any case ? 

" Every government has necessarily a right to pass 
laws indispensable to its existence ; and it has a 
right, also, to establish those regulations which shall 
best promote the good of the whole population. 
Now, what political organization is most desirable 
for a particular people, depends on circumstances ; 
but, whatever be that adopted, whether democracy, 
or despotism, or piratical confederation, the rights 
of man, as a human being, are trenched upon ; and 
visionary have proved and will prove all projects 
of constructing and fashioning society according to 
philosophical notions and theories of abstract un- 
alienable rights. That piracy or any civil institution 
interferes with the property of a man, or a class of 
men (as, for instance, merchants), does not then 
make it necessarily, and, amid all circumstances, a 


Naeeatite of 

Mr. Gracelius here paused, and gave Mary an 
opportunity to put in a lyord. 

*'But,'' said slie, after taking oft" what you call 
the rubbish, Mr. Gracelius, and pruning the question 
down as much as jou please, I cannot possibly 
admit that the Bible anywhere justifies piracy under 
any circumstances whatsoever, either abstractly or 
practically. I call upon you for anything in all 
the Bible that gives the slightest countenance to 
such a mode of life, or such a government, as you 
are pleased to term it." 

I should rather require of you," replied the 
learned divine, to make out from the Bible your 
charge that piracy is a crime. I know not a word 
from the first of Genesis to the end of Eevelation 
where piracy is once condemned. But I pass this, 
and, waiving my clear logical rights, undertake to 
prove the negative, and to show that the Bible does, 
most explicitly, both by precept and example, bear 
me out in my assertion, that piracy is not neces- 
sarily, and always, and amidst all circumstances, a 
sin. What God saxctioxed ix the Old Testa- 


begin with the patriarch Jacob, whose name 

Albert axd Mary. 


Israel has been appropriated from his day to this 
time to the true church. Ho^^ did Jacob acquire 
his great riches? Was it not by appropriating the 
property of Laban to himself? And did not God 
bless him in thus doing? There is not a word of 
condemnation ; but, on the contrarj^, Jacob, in 
telling his brother that he had much propeiiy, re- 
marked, that God had dealt graciously with him. 
Here, you see, is a marked case of an approjDria- 
tion of anothei's property by a very adroit strat- 
agem, which is fully justified by the Old Testament, 
and uncondemned by the New. 

Had Jacob not represented in his person a different 
community from Laban's, of which he was to be the 
Patriarch, his mode of acquiring wealth out of Laban 
would have been censurable. But his conduct to- 
wards Laban was consistent with what was subse- 
quently allowed under the Mosaic laws on the part 
of the Jews towards other nations. They could, for 
instance, make slaves of the nations ronnd about ; — 
they could take usury of them ; — ^they could despoil 
them by war, and they could do a variety of things 
in -relation to the people of other nations which would 
have been robbery, fraud, murder, and so on, if done 


Naeeative of 

by Jews to Jews. Thus the idea that that is prop- 
erty which the law makes property, is of divine 

Take now the case of the Israelites in their exodus 
from Egypt : they were positively enjoined by the 
Divine command to borrow of their Egyptian neigh- 
bors their various costly jeweleries, not with the idea 
of returning them, but of appropriating them perma- 
nently to their ow^n benefit. 

" David, w^ho was a man after God's own heart, did 
not regard it robbery to obtain from the Priest the 
shew-bread itself, although to do so he deceived the 
Priest by telling that which, under other circum- 
stances, would be called a lie. It ^vas essential to his 
life — to his support. It w^as not therefore criminal to 
tell the falsehood in order to obtain the bread. Now, 
it is upon this very principle that your government 
and all civil governments employ diplomatic agents, in 
order to secure by adroitness and craftiness commer- 
cial and other advantages; and it is upon the same 
principle that we pirates justify our proceedings. It 
is essential to the support and maintenance of our 
people ; and there is as much in the Scriptures to 
warrant our stratagems to decoy vessels and get the 

Albert and Mary. 


benefit of their cargoes, as for your government to ob- 
tain advantages by diplomatic adroitness. "We must 
have a living. 

But you say we not only rob but murder. But as 
all appropriations of others' possessions are not es- 
sentially robbery, so all killing is not essentially mur- 
der. If you will look into the Book of Judges, xiv. 
19, you will find that the taking of spoil even by 
violence and bloodshed, is not necessarily a crime — ^is 
not necessarily robbery and murder. It is the case 
of Samson when he had to give thirty changes of 
raiment to those who had expounded his riddle. It is 
said : " And the Spirit of the Lord came upon him, 
and he went down to Askelon and slew thirty men 
of them, and took their spoil, and gave change of 
garments unto them which expounded the riddle." 
Now, notice this particularly, that Samson did all this 
under the influence of God's Spirit. And you will 
remember that Paul in Hebrews mentions Samson 
Vv^ith special commendation. 

Now, if Samson, and David, and Jacob did such 
things, we feel justified in proceeding accordingly. 

But as I have not time to go into very minute de- 
rail, I pass at once to two very important points in 


Narrative of 

tlie iSTevr Testament. The lirst occurs in Christ's 
parable of the unjust steward. There the steward is 
commended for making an arrangement by which he 
secured his permanent interest by adroitly subtracting 
from what was due his Lord by his debtors. He had 
acted unjustly in the oflSlce of steward^ being bound 
by honor to fulfil its duties and his obligations to his 
employer, but so soon as his obligations to his em- 
ployer ceased on being ordered out of the steward- 
ship, and his very hying cut off, then it was no longer 
unjust, but commendable to do that which before 
would have been fraud or robbery. 

The other case is that of our blessed Lord himself. 
He sent his disciples to take away from the place 
where they were tied an ass and her colt ; and he told 
them how to escape should they be caught at it, hy 
saying : ' The Lord hath need of them.' Xow, when 
we take away the property of others, we may reply 
to those who question us, ' The Lord hath need of 
them,' for every good pirate will endeavor so to use 
what he obtains as to promote the best irrterests of 
religion, and to glorify our blessed Eedeemer. 

And now, my dear young sister, w^hat more need 
I say to establish the point that piracy is not essen- 

Albert and Mary. 


tially sinful— that it is not malum in se ? Indeed, it 
stands upon the same footing that slavery does, and 
is vindicated by the same process of reasoning. The 
argument for slavery is identically the same in prin- 
ciple as for piracy. And you know it is upon the 
ground that slavery is not under all circumstances a 
sin, that Christians in the Northern States hold com- 
munion with you of the South. And I admire that 
charitable spirit which induces them to believe that 
Southern Christians do not uphold the barbarous fea- 
tures which wicked and cruel masters impress upon 
the system of slavery. They give you, therefore, very 
properly, the right hand of Christian fellowship, 
which they could not do if slaveholding were sin in 
itself. And I doubt not they would as readily com- 
mune with Christian pirates, since it is evident that 
piracy is not, any more than slavery, mxilum in se^ 

Mary made no reply, but sat musing with a coun- 
tenance overwhelmed with sadness. 

Mr. Gracelius looked as though he had accom- 
plished a decided victory; and Captain Templeton 
smiled with approbation. 

Albert after a short silence exclaimed with great 
emphasis; I thank God Bible is mj reason, my 



conscience^ and mv Leosri, I tlis dav g'^orr in bemg an 

" Oh I Albert) Albert 1 cried MarVj and burst into 

Albert seeing lie had wounded the feelings of one 
he loYed so dearly, tried to soothe her by remarking 
that he had met at ^ Korth with some persons who 
maintained that the Bible was misunderstood and 
misinterpreted by the most of the commentators and 
theologian?, and that when rightly explained and re- 
ceived, would be found to be perfectly in harmony 
with the sympathies and philanthropic emotions erf 
the human heart, and with the principles of enlight- 
ened reason. But as these persons were generally 
called fenatical and visionary, he had not paid much 
attention to their strictures. " I intend, however/' he 
added, *'to take an early opportunity to investigate 
the Bible for myself and if it prove itself to be better 
than its commentators and expounders, perhaps I 
shall become a Christian. But I cannot be a Chris- 
tian if Christianity props up slaveholding and piracy.'^ 

Here the conversation was interrupted by the en- 
trance of a me^nger, who announced that every 
preparation had been made, and that Mr. GHlon and 

Albeet and Mary. 


Miss St. Clair could now go on board the merchant 
vessel. On rising to depart, Albert with much feeling 
addressed the Captain : 

Captain Templeton, we are much indebted to you 
for saving our lives, and for the hospitahty and very 
kind attentions we have received. I would that I 
could repay you in some way. But you will pardon 
me, so young a man, for expressing the profound wish 
of my heart, that you would abandon this horrible life, 
and no longer delude yourself with the idea that the 
Bible is the highest authority for the regulation of 
man's life. Eecognize every man, everywhere, as 
your brother, and treat all as you have treated Mary 
and^myself, — treat all as your ow^ heart, left to its 
most benevolent promptings, would dictate, and (the 
Bible to the contrary notwithstanding) you will please 
God better than you can do by any adherence to theo- 
logical dogmas, that make the Almighty the author 
of piracy, slavery, war, death-penalties, and such like 
institutions and practices." 

*'And I, too, hope," replied Captain Templeton, 
" that you will look into this matter with care, and 
come to the conclusion to follow that good book 
rather than the ignis fatuus of mere human reason 


Naeratiye of 

and natural conscience. I admire your honesty and 
candor, Mr. Gillon, and, althougli I cannot but regard 
your views as fanatical, I trust that wlien the ardor of 
youth shall give place to the reflections of maturer 
years, you will be as firm a believer in the Bible as I 

" Ah !" said Mr. Gracelius, that will depend upon 
the grace of God. Farewell, young man, and may 
the Lord convert your soul and give us a happy meet- 
ing again, where we shall sing the song of the Lamb 
forever and ever.'' 

Mary, still in tears, took Mr. Gracelius by the hand 
and said : 

Mr. GraceliuS; I am not at all convinced that the 
Scriptures favor your views, although I am not pre- 
pared to meet your arguments. But I fear you have 
so confirmed Albert in his infidelity, that it will be 
exceedingly hard to get him hereafter even to listen to 
Christian instruction." 

Oh ! my young sister," replied the minister, " the 
gTace of God can conquer the worst of infidels, and I 
hope your friend will yet become an ambassador of 

By this time the party were standing on deck, ready 

Albert and Maby. 


to bM the last adieu. Our young friends Trere soon 
on board the merchant vessel and out of sight of their 
strange benefactors. 

They found that the pirates had liberated the crew 
and passengers, and returned them to their vessel, re-, 
taining only the rich cargo. 

Having been well supplied with funds, in gold, 
when they left home, which Albert had about his per- 
son when taken up by the pirates, they found no diffi- 
culty, on reaching France, in making their way to 
Eng"'ind, and thence to the United States. - 

On the voyages Albert perused the Scriptures with 
great attention, not only because Mary had urged him 
to do so, but because he felt that he needed to be in- 
formed of the true nature and character of what was 
claimed to be sacred writings. He was carefal to 
avoid conversation on the subject during the progress 
of his investigations; and Mary herself was not, 
after her last interview with Mr. Gracelius, sufficiently 
quieted in her own mind to give expression to her 

It was in November, v»'hen an Indian summer was 
augmenting the beauty of the scenery about the har- 
bor of New York, that our young friends were sitting 


Narrative of 

togetlier in Mary's spacious state-room on board tlie 
noble vessel wbicli Avas just passing Staten Island. 

Albert," said Mary, with deep emotion, and the 
tear in lier eye, " I have become an Abolitionist." 

^' And I," said Albert, svith. yet deeper empbasis, 
" bave become a Christian." 

Thank God— thank God !" exclaimed Mary. O, 
Albert, I cannot tell you how happy I am to hear yon 
say so. But I do not need any explanation, for I see 
through it all. The pirates have made me an Abo 
litionist, and the Bible has made you a Christian. ] 
have now learned how to understand its teachings, 
and you have learned that the precious volume hap 
been grievously tortured to uphold the evil instead of 
the good." 

It is even so, Mary," replied Albert. " I have 
been reading and studying with an earnest desire for 
truth. I find much, in the Old Testament, calculated 
to bewilder, and much that requires the New Testa- 
ment to explain. I find, scattered through the Old 
Testament, holy principles that are brought into full 
relief by Jesus Christ, who has, by his example, and 
in his instructions to his disciples, elucidated what 
was obscure and rejected from the claims of divine 

Albert and Mary. 


axitliority what was only Jewish misconception. I am 
satisfied that it does not uphold violence, oppression, 
and wrong, and throw around these things the sanc- 
tion of the divine mind. I find that everything 
taught by Jesus Christ is in full harmony with the 
most benevolent and honorable feehngs of the human 
heart, and with the highest sense of justice and 
consciousness of right, and is diametrically opposed 
to all base carnal passions and affections, and to aU 
that is violative of human equality and brotherhood. 

^^I believe in Jesus Christ. And I had the ideal 
of such a Saviour for man before I saw that the Jesus 
of the New Testament is the true Captain of Salva- 
tion. And now I find that such a Saviour really ex- 
ists, I am willing to follow his leadings, although I 
know it will require self-denials and sacrifices. I tell 
you, Mary, I found out from reading the Bible that I 
V/^as an unregenerated man, and needed God's spirit 
to purify and sanctify my heart; and I have learned 
this from studying carefully the life and doctrines of 
Christ, who, in the flesh, gave a full manifestation of 
the godhead, and by his righteousness brought to my 
own view ray unrighteousness, 

I read of Jesus dying on the cross rather than not 


Narrative of 

carry out every jot and every tittle of the divine mo- 
rality, and every principle of pure and nndefiled re- 
ligion. I stand in admiration of this divine heroism. 
I learn farther that his great mission was to induce 
sinful man to abandon his sins and become reconciled 
to God ; and that it was in carrjdng out this mission 
that he subjected himself to the tortures of the cross. 
Under the influence of God's Spirit, this brings me to 
true repentance, and I determine to reform by taking 
Jesus as my exemplar and the captain of my salva- 
tion. I am thus made reconciled to God's law, and 
feel pardoned for the past and hopeful for the future. 
My faith in Christ gives me strength to live the life 
of a Christian, and thus I am saved. Jesus Christ's 
death has in this way reconciled me to God, and 
being thereby brought into harmony with God, God 
is reconciled to me. Jesus Christ therefore making 
atonement or reconciliation for me, has truly suffered 
in my stead. That is to say, his suffering in order to 
impress me with my obligations to God and his law, 
has by reconciling me to God's law, kept me from suf- 
fering the penalty of law. And when I think that 
God made this provision for this fallen woild — ^that 
he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever be- 

Albeet and Mary. 


lievetli in him should not perish, but have eternal 
life, and I realize it all with trust and confidence, I 
feel that the kingdom of heaven is mthin me. I am 
truly happy." 

^'My dear Albert," responded Mary, "you make 
me to see all this in a new light. I confess I never 
before properly understood the doctrine of the atone- 
ment. I did not before understand that atonement 
for man, and reconciliation between God and man, 
were one and the same thing. But I now perceive 
that there is no atonement unless we become Christ- 
like; and that just in proportion as we are Christ-like, 
we are in harmony with God, and are thus far saved. 
God converts the soul from the love of sin to the 
love of Christ, and that love of Christ insures obedi- 
ence to his commandments to the full measure of our 
knowledge. To be clothed upon then with the righte- 
ousness of Christ, and to have Christ's righteousness 
imputed to -us, are not terms signifying a righteous- 
ness extraneous from ourselves, and only regarded in 
place of righteousness in us, but really and truly to 
manifest a righteousness which will be seen and rec- 
ognized by our ownselves and others as a righteous- 
ness derived from Christ, because we live as Christ 



Inaeratite of 

would have H3 to live. how pleasant it is to see 
the matter in so clear a liglit V' 

" And now," said Albert, I wish to know how it 
is Tou a little while ago called yourself an Abolition- 
ist. Did TOU really mean what you said in its full 
import ?" 

^* Yes I did," replied Mary. " That argument made 
by Mr. Graeelius was so exactly similar to the mode 
of interpreting the Scriptures ill behalf of slavery, 
that I at once saw if it were good for slavery, it was 
just as good in defence of piracy ; and that I must 
give up the Bible under such a mode of interpreta- 
tion, or admit that piracy itself is sanctioned by the 
Bible. I could not give up my precious Bible, for I 
have felt so much of its hallowed influences upon my 
soul, that I could not think of parting from it. I 
have, hke yourself, spent this voyage studying it with 
great care, and whatever may be the criticisms of the 
learned upon words, I am certain that the whole 
spirit of Christianity, as developed before and since 
Christ utterly condemns any and every system, or 
practice, or principle which does not recognize all 
men as brethren. And I also perceive that many 
things have been wrested from t'leir original meaning 

Albert a:n"d Mary. 


to subserve tlie purposes of oppression and tjTanny. 
I now so read that good book, that I discriminate be- 
tween the erroneous ideas and practices of the Jews 
and the divine law — ^between historical facts and tra- 
ditional inferences — ^between man's misconceptions 
and the true principles of religion. I now can and do 
see from the Bible itself that slavery is all wrong ; 
and being so, I am obliged to be an Abolitionist ; for 
I know that no Christian ought to continue the prac- 
tice of what is wrong in itself on any consideration. 
But, Albert, how was it that you who did not believe 
in the Bible, became an Abolitionist 

Why, Mary, the truth is, I did not beheve in the 
Bible, because, being an Abolitionist, professed Chris- 
tians and ministers instructed me that the Bible 
sanctioned slavery, and that it required obedience to 
earthly masters and rulers, even although their com- 
mands and laws be contrary to the divine law. This 
was so contrary to my sense of natural right, that I 
said to myself I cannot honor the true God by sub- 
mitting to the authority of the Bible ; and therefore 
it was I took an utter aversion to the Bible. My 
respect for my parents j)revented me from telHng 
them when they would urge me to read the Bible, 


Naekative of 

tliat tlieir own views and practice had already con- 
vinced me tliat it was an nnrigliteous book; for I 
could not believe tliat my father would liold slaves 
under any conviction of its riglitfulness drawn from 
nature, and that m'y mother would treat the blacks as 
she did, had she been governed by her natural sense 
of justice ; but that by early education in the Bible, 
they had been trained to regard slaveholding perfectly 
compatible with the divine law, and the black as some 
heathenish being, whom it was no oppression to en- 
slave. But now having examined the Bible with 
care, I see that they who take that Book to justify 
the enslaving of men, have been most dreadfully 

^'Well, Albert," said Mary, '^you know the obliga- 
tions of Christianity require action as well as senti- 
ment. If we are Christians truly, Vv^e have to serve 
Christ fully. We dare not, therefore, withhold our 
testimony against slavery any more than against any 
other crime. How then can we return to Carolina ? 
We cannot be happy there amidst an institution which 
we abhor." 

'^Mar}^, like yourself, I now feel," said Albert, 
"that a Christian must not hide his light under a 

Albert and Mary. 


bushel. We must speak for tlie dumb and for tbe 
truth as it is in J esus. But with such views and in- 
tentions we would not be suffered in South Carolina. 
"What, then, are we to do ?" 

Mary, after a few moments' meditation, answered, 
"Albert, our parents think we were lost with the 
Pulaski. Let it stand so. They will suffer more 
if ^^e go back to them with such sentiments as we 
now entertain. And for your sake, and for our 
parents' sake, and for the sake of Christ, I am will- 
ing to sacrifice all my worldly prospects and try to 
make a hving by my own exertions in some place 
where my own feelings will not be shocked with the 
perpetual violation of Christian law by my own slave- 
holding relatives, and where I shall not be myself an 
annoyance to them." 

Here their dialogue was interrupted by the arrival 
of the ship at the wharf, and in a short time our young 
friends were safely landed in New York. * 
. Suffice it to say, in conclusion, that they both agreed 
never more to be dependent on the wealth of their 
parents, — assured as they were that all they could 
bestow upon them would be the product of unrequited 
toil. They were soon united m holy wedlock, and, 

126 Narrative of 

after engaging in teacliing an academy a short time, 
Albert became a faithful and zealous minister of the 
gospel ; and lie and his loving wife in process of time 
succeeded in revealing their situation to their parents? 
in such terms as to reconcile them to their anti-slavery 
views, and to induce them finally to emancipate their 

They are all living happily in moderate circum- 
stances, in a little town in one of the free States, — in 
the direct line of the ^^under-ground railroad;" and 
many a poor fugitive finds a comfortable shelter in 
either of their humble cottages. 

A short time since, Mary was reading the discussion 
between Dr. Wayland and Dr. Fuller, on the subject 
of slavery, and was startled to find the very words of 
Mr. Gracelius and his identical argument, used by the 
champion of American slavery. 

Albert," said she to her husband, " would you be^ 
lieve it. Dr. Fuller and Mr. Gracelius are one and the 
same person." 

" It surely cannot be !" said Albert. But to this 
day the matter looks very mysterious to them. And 
it is hoped that Dr. Fuller or Dr. Wayland will ex- 

Albert and Mary. 127 

plain tlie coincidence of the argnments in some satis- 
factory manner. 

Coil m\ii Crnst. . 

rjpHIS is tLe motto of all persons sincerely disposed 
to embrace the cross of the anti-slavery enterprise. 
The duty it imposes is two-fold; 1. To toil for the 
spread of the truth ; and 2. To trust to the dissipation 
of error. The most potent barrier set up against the 
opponents of slavery is made of the prejudices care- 
fully instilled into the popular mind against them. 
I propose, in brief, to point out their origin. 
It is sedulously inculcated : 

1. That anti-slavery is a pure sectional feeling, and 
springs from jealousy of the South. 

Fifty years ago this idea might fairly have been 
entertained. Many of the arguments then used have 
no better root than political jealousy. But it is not so 
now. The ruling objection at present is, that slavery 
is WRONG, no matter where it may be found ; that it 

Toil and Trust. 


is a moral evil, and an offence against religion, not 
less tlian a great political curse ; tliat indifference to 
it among good men encourages its extension among 
bad men ; and that nothing but resolute and universal 
condemnation of it in every form will stimulate to 
its abolition. How far these views are from jealousy 
of the South, must appear obvious enough to all who 
reflect that those who entertain them, consider the 
result to be arrived at as one which must spring from 
the voluntary convictions of those most aBfected by 
it, that they are getting rid of the only serious draw- 
back to their own prosperitj^. Ox^ course, then, it is 
the best interests of the Sontli, — their strength, moral, 
social, and political, — that aiiti-slavery men believe 
they are promoting, by their course. 

2. That the enemies of slavery desire to subvert 
the Constitution and to dissolve the Union. 

Possibl}', a few impatient spirits may have got so 
far. Thuy constitute, however, but a very small 
portion of the number included in the term. Nine- 
tenths of these hold tliat neither the Constitution nor 
the Union should be brought into question at all. 
They consider that the resort to them as a protection 

and safeguard to slavery, by ill-judging and rash 



Toil akd Trust. 

conservatives, lias done more to put tliem into serious 
danger, than the acts of all others combined during 
the present century. Any man who relies upon a 
good government to sustain acknowledged evil, does 
much to modify the notions of goodness which honest 
and conscientious men have entertained respecting 
that government. He furnishes an entering Avedge 
for doubt and distrust, which, if not removed, will 
grow into aversion. Anti-slavery men reason differ- 
ently. They separate slavery from the Constitu- 
tion and the Union, and, by seeking to destroy the 
former, desire to perpetuate the latter. They hold,- 
that against the concentrated moral sentiment of the 
whole country, acting through its legitimate public 
channels, and aided by the praj'crs and the hopes 
of all the civilized world, it would be much more 
difficult to maintain slavery in the States, than if the 
dangers of general misgovernment and disunion were 
to come in to distract the public attention, and open 
up social disasters of a worse kind than those which 
they seek to remedy. 

3. The spirit of this reform is denunciatory, violent, 
and proscriptive. 

It is inevitable that all movements directed against 

Toil and Trust. 


tlie established errors of communities originate with 
men more or less fanatical in spirit. None but they 
have the necessary elements of character to advance 
at all. But, as others become convinced of the fun- 
damental truths which they utter, the tendency of their 
association is to modify and soften the tone, and make 
it more nearly approximate the correct sentiment. 
At this period, there is quite as much of liberality 
among anti-slaverj^ men as is consistent with a deter- 
mined maintenance of their general purpose. Though 
disposed to be just to all who conscientiously differ 
with them in opinion, they cannot overlook the fact 
that many honest persons are too indifferent, and 
more are too compromising in their views of slavery. 
To rouse the one, and alarm the other class into a 
conviction of their responsibility for their apathy, is 
one of the most imperative duties. It may be that 
this is not always done in the most courtly or the 
choicest terms. Some allowances must be made for 
the spirit of liberty. These cases form, however, the 
exception, and not the rule, among anti-slavery men. 
The great majority well comprehend that the greatest 
results will follow efforts made without bitterness of 
temper. They remember that whilst the Saviour 


Toil axd Thl'st. 

denounced Tvitliout stint the formal scribe, the IioUotv 
Pharisee, and the greedy money-changer, he chose 
for his sphere of exertion the society of pnbhcans and 

4. Anti-slaverv men seek to set shives asrainst their 
masters, at the risk of the lives and happiness of 

This impression, which is much the most common, 
is, at the same time, the least founded in truth of all. 
Xo evidence, worthy of a moment's credit, has ever 
been produced, implicating any class of them in a 
susiDicion of the kind. Nothing proves the absence 
of all malignity towards the slaveholders more clearly 
than this. K they sought really to injure them, what 
could be more easv than to stimulate disaffection along^ 
so extensive a line of boundary as that of the slave 
States ? Probably few of them entertain any doubt 
of the abstract riglit of the slave to free himself from 
the condition in which he is kept against his own con- 
sent, in any manner practicable. How easy then the 
step from this opinion to an act of encouragement ! 
That it has never been taken furnishes the most con- 
clusive proof of the falsity of the popular impression, 
and of the moderations of the anti-slavery men, who 

Toil and Trust. 


seek only, in the moral con Auctions of tlie masters, for 
the source of freedom to tlie slaves. 

But though, it be true that all these common im- 
pressions are delusions strc^vn in the way of anti- 
slavery men to impair the effect of their exertions, it 
by no means foUo^vs that they should be induced by 
them to assume a moderation which encourages 
sluggishness. ISTo great movement in human affairs 
can be made, without zeal, energy, and perseverance. 
It must be animated by a strong will, and tempered 
by a benevolent purpose. Such is the shape which 
the anti-shivery reform is gradually assuming. Its 
motto, then, should be, as was said in the beginning : 


QuixcT, 10 July, 1853. 

Jricnbljijj for tlje ^labe b $iit]\h\i\$ for 
t\}t faster. 

JI^T is a mistake on the part of tlie people of tlie 
soutli to suppose that those who desire the extinc- 
tion of slavery, whether residing in America or Eng- 
land, are actuated by unfriendly feelings toward them 
personally, or by any hostility to the pecuniary or 
social interests of their section of country. The most 
important and influential classes of the population, 
both of England and of the northern States of this 
Union, have a direct and strong pecuniary interest at 
stake, in the prosperity and welfare of the south. If 
the people of Massachusetts or those of Lancashire 
were employed in raising cotton and sugar, and if the 
prices which they obtained for their produce were 
kept down by southern competition, then there might 
perhaps be some ground for suspecting a covert hos- 
tility in any action or influence which they might at- 
tempt to exert on such a question. But the contrary 

Friendship for the Slave. 135 

is tlie fact. New England and Old England mannfac- 
ture and consume the cotton and sugar which the 
south produces. They are directly and deeply inter- 
ested in having the production of these articles go on 
in the most advantageous manner possible. The 
- southern planter is not their competitor and rival. He 
is their partner. His work is to them and to their 
pursuits one of co-operation and aid. Consequently 
his prosperity is their prosioerity, and his ruin would 
be an irretrievable disaster, not a benefit, to them. 
They are thus naturally his friends, and, consequently, 
when in desiring a change in the relation which sub- 
sists between him and his laborers, they declare that 
they are not actuated by any unfriendly feeling to- 
w^ard him, but honestly think that the change would 
be beneficial to all concerned, there is every reason 
why they should be believed. 

There was a time when the laboring population of 
England occupied a position in respect to the pro- 
prietors of the soil there, very analogous to that now 
held by African slaves in our country. Bat the sys- 
tem has been changed. From being serfs, compelled 
to toil for masters, under the influence of compulsion 
or fear, they have become a free peasantry, working 

186 Friexdship for the Slave. 

in the employment of landlords, for wages. But this 
change has not depressed or degTaded the landlords, 
or injui^ed them in any way. On the contrary, it has 
probably elevated and improved the condition of the 
master quite as much as it has that of the man. 

Imagine such a change as this on any southern" 
plantation: the Christian master desiring conscien- 
tiously to obey the divine command, — given expressly 
for his guidance, in his resj^onsible relation of em- 
ployer, — that he should ''give unto his servants that 
which is just and equal, — forbearing threatening," — re- 
solves that he will henceforth induce industry on his 
estate by the payment of honest wages, instead of 
coercing his laborers by menaces and stripes ; and after 
carefully considering the whole ground, he estimates, 
as fairly and faithfidly as he can, what proportion of 
the whole avails of his culture properly belong to the 
labor performed by his men, and what to the capital, 
skill, and supervision, furnished and exercised by him- 
self, — and then fixes upon a rate of wages, graduating 
the scale fairly and honestly according to the strength, 
* the diligence, and the fidelity of the various laborers. 
Suppose, also, that some suitable arrangement is made 
on the plantation or in the vicinity, by which the ser- 

Feiexdship for the Slave. 137 

vants can expend wliat tliey earn, in sucli comforts, 
ornaments, or luxuries as are adapted to tlieir con- 
dition and their ideas. Suppose that, in consequence 
of the operation of this system, the laborers, instead of 
desiring, as now, to make their escape from the scene 
of labor, should each prize and value his place in it, 
and fear dismission from it as a punishment. Suppose 
that through the change which this new state of things 
should produce, it should become an agreeable and 
honorable duty to sujiierintend and manage the system, 
as it is now agreeable and honorable to superintend 
the operations of a manufactory, or the construction or 
working of a railway, or the building of a fortress, or 
any other organized system of industry where the 
workmen are paid, and that consequently, instead of 
rude and degraded overseers, intemperate and pro- 
fane, extorting labor by threats and severity, there 
should be found a class of intelligent, humane, and 
honest men, to dii^ect and superintend the industry of 
the estate, — men whom the proprietor would not be 
ashamed to associate with, or to admit to his parlor or 
table. In a word, suppose that the general content- 
ment and happiness which the new system would in- 
duce in all concerned in it, were such that peace of 

133 Feiexdship fob the Slave. 

mind should retum to the masters "breast, now, — espe- 
cially in hours of sickness and suffering, and at the 
approach of death, — so often disturbed, and a sense of 
safety be restored to his family, so that it should no 
longer be necessary to keep the pistols or the rifle 
always at hand, and that the wife and children could 
lie down and sleep at night, without starting at un- 
usual or sudden sounds, or appreliending insurrection 
when they hear the cry of fire. Suppose that such a 
change as this were possible, is it the part of a friend 
or an enemy to desire to have it effected ? 

But all such suppositions as these, the southern man 
will perhaps say, are visionary and Utopian in the 
highest degree. Xo such state of things as is contem- 
plated by them, can by any possibility be realized 
with such a population as the southern slaves. Very 
well ; say thi'Sj if you please, and prove it, if it can be 
proved. But do not charge those who desire that it 
might be realized, with being actuated, in advocating 
the change, by imfriendly feelings towards you, — for 
most assuredly they do not entertain any. 


" 0, these childen, how they do lie round our hearts." — Milly Ed- 


rjIHE clock struck the appointed hour, and the 
sale commenced. Articles of household furniture, 
horses, carts, and slaves, were waiting together to be sold 
to the highest bidder. For strange as it would seem 
in' another land than this, beneath the ample folds of 
the " Star-spangled Banner," human smevjs were to be 
bought and sold. Bodies, such as' the Apostle called 
the temples of the Holy Ghost," in which dwelt 
souls for which Christ died ; — men, women and little 
children, made in the image of God, Avere classed with 
marketable commodities, to be sold by the pound, like 
dumb beasts in the shambles. Husbands would be 
torn from their wives, mothers from their children, 
and all from everything they loved most dearlj. 



The group of liuman chattels excited great interest 
among tlie lookers-on, for tliey vrere a choice lot of 
prime negroes, and rumor said that lie TTOiild get a 
rare bargain wlio bought that day. 

It Tvas a saddening sight, that dusky group, whose 
only crime was being 

*•' guilty of a sldn 

Isot colored like our own," 

as they waited with anxious looks and Cjuivering 
hearts to hear their doom, filling up the dreary mo- 
ments with thoughts of the . chances and changes 
which overhung their future. 

A bright-eyed boy, of twelve years old, 

" A brave, free-liearted, careless one,'* 

with a proud spirit playing in every line of his hand- 
some face, and in every movement of his graceful 
form, was first called to the auction-block. His good 
qualities were rapidly enumerated, his limbs rudely 
examined, his soundness vouched for, and he became 
the chattel personal of a Georgian, who boasted of his 
good bargain ; and on being warned that he would 
have trouble with the boy, declared with an oath, that 
he would " soon take the devil out of hinu" 

Chris TIKE. 


Matty, a sister of tliis lad, was next placed upon the 
stand. Her beauty, wliich tlie excitement of tliat 
dreadful moment only served to heighten, hushed for 
awhile the coarse jests of the crowd. She was a 
splendid-looking creature, just entering upon woman- 
hood. But her beauty proved, as beauty must ever 
prove to a slave vroman, a deadly curse. It enhanced 
her market value, and sealed her deadly fate. It at- 
tracted the eye, and inflamed the passions of a wealthy 
Louisianian, named St. Laurent, who gave a thousand 
dollars in hard gold in exchange for her, that he 
might make her his petted favorite. Wives, mothers, 
daughters of America, have you nothing to do with, 
slavery, when such is the fate of slave women ? Can 
you sit silent, and at your ease, knowing that such 
things are ? 

When Matty was removed from the auction-block, 
she fell upon her brother's neck, and wept such tears 
as only they can weep whom slavery parts, never to 
meet again. 

" Christine !*' cried the loud voice of the auctioneer. 
Matty checked her passionate giief, and turning saw 
her mother, with her baby in her arms, standing where 
she herself had stood but just before. Quickly her 



keen eye sought the form of her new master. "With 
a sudden impulse she threw herself at his feet, ex- 
claiming, ^' master, master, do buy my mother too 
The man gazed for a moment on the beautiful face 
upturned to his, with a look which made the lashes 
droop over her pleading eyes, and tapping her cheek 
with his finger, he said, 

What ! coaxing so early, my pretty one ? Ko, 
no ; it will not do ; I have no use for the old 

Oh, master, she is not old. Do buy my mother, 
master !" 

^'Here is a prize for you, gentlemen,'' broke in the 
-harsh tones of the auctioneer. ''There is the best 
housekeeper and cook in all Virginia. Who bids for 
her? $300 did you say, sir? $325— thanks, gentle- 
men, but I cannot sell this woman for a song. She is 
an excellent seamstress. $400 — $450 — S500 — I am 
glad to see you are warming up a little, gentlemen, — 
but she is worth more money than that. Look at 
her ! What a form ! what an eye ! what arms ! — there 
is muscle for you, gentlemen. Upon my honor she is 
the flower of th^ lot, — a dark-colored rose,; — ^bhick, but 
comely; and her baby goes with her. $550, did I 



hear you say, sir ? Will no one give more than $550 
for sucli a woman and baby 

The baby is of no account," said Mr. St. Laurent ; 
"she would sell better without it. If I buy her, I 
shall give away the little encumbrance." 

The poor slave-mother heard him, and strained her 
baby to her bosom, as if she would say, " You shall 
never take him from me." The boy looked into her 
face, and smiled a sweet baby smile, and put his little 
arms about her neck, and laid his cheek on hers. One 
would have thought he understood what was passing 
in her heart, and strove to comfort her. " $575— $600 
— $650," — and Christine and her baby boy became 
the property of Mr. St. Laurent. 

" I would not have bought the woman," said he, 
turning to an acquaintance, " but for the girl's impor- 
tunity. I feared she would have the sulks if I didn't, 
and I want to keep her good-natured. I shall give 
the mother as a wedding-present to my daughter. But 
anybody may have the child, who will take him off 
my hands ?" 

'^I will take him, sir, and thank you too," said a 
little, sharp looking, bustling man, stepping briskly 
up, and bowing to Mr. St. Laurent. 


TTill Ton. my fiiend ? Then lie is yours, and you 
may take liim away as soon as you please." 

" If I take kim now, the woman raise a storm," 
•said the little man ; I know a better way than that," 
and drawing Mr. St. Laurent aside, he communicated 
his plan, and they parted mutually satisfied. 

Meanwhile the sale went on, but we ^"iU not follow 
further its revoltincf details. Christine, with her babv 
and Matty, were put in safe quarters for 'the night. 
Notwithstanding the intense anxiety that filled their 
minds, and a superstitious fear in Christine's heart 
that the worst had not yet come, an unaccountable 
drowsiness oppressed them, and before long both fell 
into a deep death-like sleep. 

Morning broke over the green earth. The sun 
gilded the mountain-tops, and bathing the trees in 
splendor, was greeted with ten thousand bird-songs. 
He kissed the dewy flowers, and their fragTance rose 
as incense on the morning air. He looked into the 
windows of happy homes, and wakened golden-haired 
children to renew their joyous sports, and mothers, 

" souls Trere "hushed Tvith their weight of blis3 

Like flowers surcharged with dc\r," 



sent up tteir morning thanksgiving to " Him who 
never slumbers," for His protection of their laugh- 
ing dimpled treasures." Suddenly a warm ray fell 
upon the face of the sleeping slave-mother. She 
wakened with a start, and with one wild shriek of 
agony sprang from the bed. Her babe was gone. 

Why need we dwell upon what followed ? What 
pen can describe the anguish of the heart-broken 
mother, when she knew that while under the influ- 
ence of opiates which she had unwittingly taken, her 
boy had been taken from her, and that she should 
look upon her darling's face no more. Mother 1 look 
at the darling nestler upon your own bosom, and ask 
yourself how you would have felt in Christine's ^ 

After the first burst of agony was over, she did not 
give way outwardly to grief. One might have 
thought she did not grieve. But she carried all 
her sorrows in her heart, till thej^ had eaten out her 

On the morning of Eleanore St. Laurent's bridal 

day, Christine v/ as sent for to perform some service 

for her young mistress. But the spoil had been taken 

out of the hands of the spoiler — the bruised heart was 




at rest. The outraged soul had gone with its com- 
plaints to the bar of the Eternal. 

Cfje littellcctiral, IJaral, mtir S|}iritMl 
Caitifitiffit of tlje ^I'M. 

HE American slave is a human being. He pos- 

sesses all the attributes of mind and heart that 
belong to the rest of mankind. He has intellect with 
which to think, sensibility with which to feel, and toil 
which prompts him to vigorous and manly action. 
jSTor is he destitute of the sublime faculty of reason, 
which is related to eternal and absolute truths. 
Imagination and fancy, too, he possesses, in a very 
large degree. But all these faculties, which nature 
has bestowed upon the slave in common with other 
men, by a decree of slavery fixed and unalterable like 
the laws of the Medes and Persians, are undeveloped, 
and the results, therefore, of their activities are not to 
be found. How mean then it must be to reproach 
the unfortunate slave with a lack of intellectual quali- 


ties, sucli as characterize men generally. In proof of 
tlie statement, tliat slaves have these qualities, it is 
only necessary to refer to the many fugitives who, by 
their great thoughts, their masterly logic, and their 
captivating eloquence, are astonishing both the Old 
and the New "World. Education is what the white 
man needs for the development of his intellectual 
energies. And it is what the black man needs for 
the development of his. Educate him, and his mind 
proves itself at once as profound and masterly in its 
conceptions, and as brisk and irresistible in its deci- 
sions, as the mind of any other man. 

But, in addition to his intellectual, the slave pos- 
sesses a moral nature, capable of the highest develop- 
ment and the most refined culture. A conscience 
tender and acute, the voice of God in his soul bidding 
him to choose the right and avoid the wrong, is his 
lawful inheritance bestowed upon him by his Heavenly 
Father. This no one can deny who knows aught of 
the love of moral truth manifested by the slaves of 
this country. God has not left the slaves without 
moral sense. Nor has he denied him the spiritual 
faculty which, when cultivated, enables him to recog- 
nize God in his spiritual manifestations, to discern and 

Condition of the Slave. 149 

appreciate spiritual truths, and to feel and relisli the 
gentle distillations of tlie spirit of divine love as they 
fall upon his heart like dew upon the grateful earth. 
The moral and spiritual nature of the slave, however, 
like his intellectual, goes uneducated and untrained. 
Deep, dark, and impenetrable is the gloom which en- 
shrouds the mind and soul of the slave. No ray of 
light cheers him in his midnight darkness. No one 
is allowed to fetch him the blessings of education, and 
no preacher of righteousness is suffered to illumine his 
dark mind by the presentation of sacred truth. 

It is indeed true that slavery is a political, a civil, 
and a commercial evil. It is true that it is most ex- 
cruciating and frightfal in its effects upon the phj^s- 
ical nature of its victim. But slavery is seen in its 
more awful wickedness and terrible heinousness, when 
we contemplate the vast waste of intellect, the vast 
waste of moral and spiritual energy, which has been 
caused by its poisonous touch. 

And yet the povv^er of the State, and the influence 
of the Church, are given to its support. Many of 
our leading statesmen are engaged in devising and 
furthering plans for the extension of its territorial 
area, thereby hoping to perpetuate and eternize its 


OoN-DiTiOK or THE Slave. 

bloody existence, wliile tlie majority of our most dis- 
tinguished divines find employment in constructing 
discourses, founded upon perverse expositions of 
sacred writ, calculated to establisli and fix in tlie minds 
of the people the impression that slavery is a divine 

Although this mighty power of the State, and in- 
fluence of the Church, be opposed to th^, slave, let 
him not despair, but be full of hope. For God is 
upon his side, truth is upon his side, and a multitude 
of good and able men and women are engaged in 
working out his redemption. 

Oberlin, August 27, 1853. 

Clje gible vs. Slaben. 

OTHINGr," says Dr. Spring, is more plain to 

-^^ my mind than that the word of God recog- 
nizes the relation between master and slave as one of 
the established institutions of the age ; and, that 
while it addresses slaves as Christian men, and 
Christian men as slaveholders, it so modifies the 
whole system of slavery as to give a death-blow to all 
its abuses, and breathes such a spirit, that in the same 
proportion in which its principles are imxbibed, the 
yoke of bondage will melt away, all its abuses cease, 
and every form of human oppression will be un- 
known. The Bible is no agitator. It changes human 
governments only as it changes the human charf^cter. 
It aims at transforming the dispositions and hearts of 
men, and diffusing through all human institutions the 
supreme love of God, and the impartial love of man." 

152 The Bible vs. Slavery. 

Now, this either means that the Bible requires 
that all institutions be adjusted and harmonized \yith 
the moral law — ^the law of love — or it means nothing. 
For, we maintain, that slavery is per se wrong, where 
the enslaver has no direct warrant from heaven, or 
the enslaved has not forfeited liberty by crime on 
principles of recognized and universal equit}^; and 
the whole Bible forbiddins; wrong^ must be held as 

o o 

forbidding slavery, or any arbitrary and inhuman 
tamperings with the inalienable rights of a fellow- 

If slavery is not a wrong in itself, irrespective of 
what are called its abuses, then all that is essential in 
it may be retained from age to age ; and all the 
amelioration which the Christian law superinduces 
may be such as to consist with the violation of 
the natural prerogatives of humanity, and vrith the 
denial to man of the essential and dearest privileges 
of social and domestic life, with the denial of the 
rights of conscience too. For slavery, as distin- 
guished from service by contract, is this thing and no 
other: — it is labor undefined, unrewarded, on the 
condition of being used as vendible property, and 
every independent right of the slave, as an intellectual 

The Bible vs. Slavery. 


and moral being, is ignored. By practical indulgence 
such, rights may be sometimes conceded. But the 
slave-law ceases as such when these are recognized. 

Now, we hold it a libel on the Bible to affirm that 
it sanctions such slavery. We must warn you of the 
fallacy that lies in this distinction of the thing itself, 
and its abuse. What is called the abuse here is the 
essence and the characteristic of the subject. Service 
as well as slavery may be abused. Everything may 
be abused. But, the claim of the slaveholder is itself 
the abuse of the God-ordained relation of master and 
servant. Can men be regarded as a chattel ? — ^that is 
the question — and so regarded without his consent, 
and his family treated as such permanently, v^-ithout his 
consent, or even with it ? m 

It comes of this bad interpretation of the Christian 
law, that in the nineteenth century slavery still re- 
mains, — is cherished. It is not that the principles of 
Christianity -do not tend to extinguish it. But men, 
forcing their false interpretation on the Scriptures, 
plead their authority for a system or institution, to 
which their whole spirit is opposed, — and which con- 
fesses its unscriptural character by keeping out Chris- 
tian light, and forbidding the Scriptures Vvdth the slave. 



The Bible vs. Slayeey. 

To talk of tlie spirit of Christianity, in distinction 
from its express or implied law against slavery, is as 
if one would trust for the extinction of sin against the 
sixth or seventh commands of the decalogue, by gen- 
eral inculcation of meekness or purity, without de- 
nouncing murder and defining it, or defining between 
allowed and disallowed affinity in the marriage law. 
We may if we dp not proscribe theft, and bring the 
positive law of God to bear against it, and bring 
a law into harmony with the divine, be understood, 
while we talk only of the abuses of property, as warn- 
ing rather against spendmg stolen goods in a bad 
w^ay, than against theft itself? But the design of the 
moral law is to define rights, as well as to govern the 
use of them ; and it r^uires that not only the tempers 
of men, but the institutions of society, be adjusted b}^ 
the law of equity and charity. It forbids not only 
the abuse of just power, but all false usurpations of 
power, and classes man-stealers and extortioners as 

Who, if he but examines the laws of social and rela 
tive duty, as laid dow^n in the New Testament Epistles, 
may not discern that the relation of master and ser- 
vant is recognized side by side with the permanent 

The Bible vs. Slavery. 


relations of parent and cliild, husband and wife, whicli 
rest on the law of nature ; just because it is not the 
temporary, unnatural, and violent relation of slave- 
holder and slave which is recognized, but that of 
master and servant by contract. The other, its very 
apologists allow, will pass away ; but these duties are 
enhanced in a law of permanent application, and rest 
on natural principles, common to all times and all 

IKE all Eeforms ^hicli have for their object the 

amelioration of man's condition ; the advancement 
of the Eedeemer s kingdom ; the cause of human free- 
dom has encountered many oppositions calculated to 
impede its progress. It has temporarily suflered from 
cruel defection within, and the most virulent persecu- 
tion without the camp. 

John, the forerunner of Jesus, had for his portion 
" locusts and wild honey.'' But those who have stood 
forth in the sunhght, the advocates of the crushed and 
bleeding bondman; whose motto is, Our country is 
the world, and our countrymen all mankind," have 
had no honey for their portion. Oh no ! they have 
ever dwelt among the tempest and the storm, with 
thunder, lightning, and whirlwind, to feed upon. 
Some have been called, for the advocacy of the 

"The Work goes Beavely ok." 157 

truth, to wing their flight from the prison-house to 
Heaven ; and others, to bare their bosoms to the red- 
hot indignation of relentless mobs, arrayed in mur- 
derous panoply. They have gone ; but, thank God, 


The great men of the nation, the mighty men, the 
chief priests and rulers, have risen in their strength, 
and resolved to crush, as with an avalanche, the irre- 
pressible aspirations of the bondman's heart for free- 
dom; they have attempted to padlock the out-gush- 
ing sympathies of humanity ; to trample in the dust 
the sacred guarantees of the palladium of their own 
liberties, but their ^Herribleness hath deceived them, 
and the pride of their heart," for the desolating angel 
hath sealed their lips in the silence of the tomb, and 
we, the recipients of their crushing cruelties, thank 


^(abffjolMng not a glisfortiiiie but it Crime. 

'OE your movement on behalf of the shave, I have 

profound respect. I assure you of my un- 
feigned sj^mpathies and of my earnest prayers. In 
m}^ view, you deserve the high esteem of all who love 
and serve God. Nothing would be deemed by me a 
greater honor than co-operation with you actively in 
your work of faith and your labor of love. With full 
consent of all that is within me, do I range myself 
among those who deem American slavery not a sad 
misfortune, but a heinous crime : a crime all the more 
heinous, because justified and even j)erpetrated by 
men who call themselves the servants of Christ. 
I am, madam, yours resjDectfuUy, 

London, September 2, 1853. 

rjlHEEE is nothing in the universe that can deserve 
the namo or do the work of valid law but the 
commandment and the ordinance of the Hving God. 
All human enactments, adjudications and usages not 
founded on these, are of no legal force, and should be 
trampled under foot. The practice of slaveholding, 
for this reason, can never be legalized, and all legis- 
lative or judicial attempts to sustain it are rebellion 
against God, and treason against civil society. To 
. teach otherwise, would be to set up other gods above 
Jehovah, to promulgate the fundamental principle of 
atheism, and proclaim war against the liberties of 

ASK no prouder inscription for mj humble tomb, 
than ''Here lies tlie Friend of the Oppressed." 

Brunswick, Maine, September 30, 1853. 

Miss Julia Griffith, 

jl^Y Dear Madam, your letter of September 23d 
I have received. I regret exceedingly that it 
is not in my power to furnish the article you have 
done me the honor to solicit, for the- Autographs 
for Freedom." Particularly do I regret this now, 
when the great conflict betYv^een aristocracy and de- 
mocracy is about being renewed all over the continent 
of Europe, and when despots are pointing with exult- 
ation to the unparalleled enormities of our "peculiar 
institutions," and the fiiends of republican equality, in 
all lands, are disheartened by our example. Would 
the slaveholders of the south but consent to place 
those who till their lands, under the protection of 
wholesome and impartial law, and pay them laonest 

162 The Mission; of A:merica. 

wages, it tvouM ere long cause liiiman riglits to be re- 
spected in every corner of the globe. It should be 
the mission of America, by the silent influence of a 
glorious example, to revolutionize all despotisms. "VTe 
have a vast continent to subdue and to adorn, and we 
need the aid of millions more of willing hands to ac- 
complish the magnificent enterprise. With much 
esteem I am truly yours, 

rjlHE late Dr. Clialmers, not long before his death, 
spoke with disapprobation of Abolitionists in the 
United States, for undertaking," as he said, ''to de- 
cide, without sufficient evidence, upon the irreligious 
character of ministers and church-members. TJiey^ 
forsooth, undertake to exclude men from the Lord's 
table, who are in good and regular standing in the 
church of Christ, because they happen to hold slaves ! 
They pretend to decide who, and who are not Chris- 
tians !" It is marvellous that so learned and so dis- 
tinguished a man should have fallen into such a mis- 
take ; and, on hearsay, ventured to utter a most 
calumnious accusation against the friends of the slave. 

The Abolitionists might, perhaps, make decisions in 
the case not wide of the mark, founded upon the rule 
given by Jesus Christ : " By their fruits ye shall know 


them." But, in declaring tliat slaveholders ought not 
to be fellowshipped as Christians, they do not say 
"whether a slaveholder is or is not a Christian. On the 
contrary, they leave each one with his Maker, the In- 
FALLIBLE JuDGE. But this they do : — ^they hold that 
no slaveholder^ professing to be a Christian, is entitled 
to Christian fellowship, because slaveholding is a sin, 
and should subject the offender to disciiDline. Neither 
Dr. Chalmers nor any other divine could deny the 
propriety of this, provided they believed that slave- 
holding is a sin, or an ecclesiastical offence. The 
apostle Paul directed that Christians should not eat 
with an extortioner, A slaveholder is an extortioner. 
If, then, a Christian may not eat a common meal with 
such an offender, may he sit at the Lord's table with 
him ? I trow not. 

Lewis Tappan". 

% §ti\i from mi ^^x^ f ooli 

Uay, 1849. 


EEHAPS a fitter occasion never presented itself, 

nor was more properly availed of, for the ex- 
hibition of talent, than when Frederick Douglass and 
Samuel E. Ward debated the " question" whether the 
Constitution was or not a pro-slavery document. 

"With the question" at issue we have, at present, 
nothing to do ; and with the arguments so far only as 
they exhibit the men. 

Both eminent for talent of an order (though differ- 
ing somewhat in cast) far above the common level of 
gTcat men. 

If any inequalities existed, they served rather to 
heighten than diminish the interest of the occasion, 
giving rise to one of the severest contests of mind 
with mind that has yet come to my notice. 


A Leaf feom 

Douglass, sincere in the opinions lie lias espoused, 
defends tliem with a fervor and eloquence that finds 
scarcely a competitor. 

In his very look — ^his gesture — in his whole manner, 
there is so much of genuine, earnest eloquence, that 
they leave no time for reflection. Now you are 
reminded of one rushing down some fearful steep, 
bidding you follow ; now on some delightful stream, 
still beckoning you onward. 

In either case, no matter what jout j)repossessions 
or oppositions, jou. for the moment, at least, forget 
the justness or unjustness of his cause and obey the 
summons, and loath, if at all, you return to your 
former post. 

Not always, however, is he successful in retaining 
5^ou. Giddy as you may be with the descent you 
have made, delighted as you are with the pleasure 
afforded, with the elysium to which he has wafted 
you, you return too often dissatisfied with his and your 
own impetuosity and want of firmness. You feel that 
you had had only a dream, a pastime, not a reality. 

This great povv'cr of momentary captivation consists 
in his eloquence of manner — ^his just appreciation of 

MY Scrap Book. 


In listening to liim, your whole soul is fired — every 
nerve strung — every passion inflated — every faculty 
you possess ready to perform at a moment's bidding. 
You stop not to ask why or wherefore. 

'Tis a unison of mighty yet harmonious sounds that 
play upon your imagination ; and you give yourself 
up, for a time, to their irresistible charm. 

At last, the cataract which roared around you is 
hushed, the tornado is passed, and you find yourself 
sitting upon a bank (at whose base roll but tranquil 
waters), quietly- mjdiiating that why^ amid such a 
display of power, no greater effect had really been 

After all, it must be admitted, there is a power 
in Mr. Douglass rarely to be found in any other 

With copiousness of language, and finish of diction, 
when even ideas fail, words come to his aid — arrang- 
ing themselves, as it were, so completely, that they 
not only captivate, but often deceive us for ideas; and 
hence the vacuum that would necessarily occur in 
the address of an ordinary speaher is filled up, present- 
ing the same beautiful harmony as do the lights and 
shades of a picture. 


A Leaf fro^ 

From Mr. Douglass, in this, perhaps, as much as 
in any other respect, does Mr. Ward differ. Ideas 
form the basis of all Mr. "Ward utters. T\^ords are 
only used to express those ideas. 

If words and ideas are not inseparable, then, as 
mortar is to the stones that compose the building, so 
are his words to his ideas. 

In this, I judge, lavs Mr. TTard's greatest strength. 
Concise without abruptness — without extraordinary 
stress, always clear and forcible ; if sparing of orna- 
ment, never inelegant. In all, there appears a con- 
sciousness of strength, developed by clos3 study and 
deep reflection, and only put forth because the oc- 
casion demanded, — a power not only to examine but 
to enable you to see the fairness of that examination 
and the justness of its conclusions. 

You feel Douglass to be right, without always see 
ing it ; perhaps it is not too much to say, when Ward 
is right you see it. 

His appeals are directed rather to the understand- 
ing than the imagination; but so forcibly do they 
take possession of it, that the heart unhesitatingly 

If, as we have said, Mr. Douglass seems as one 

UY Scrap Book. 


whirling down some steep descent whose very im- 
petuosity impels ; — ere you are aware of it, it is the 
quiet serenity of Mr. "Ward, as he points up the 
rugged ascent, and invites you to follow, that inspires 
your, confidence and ensures your safety. Step by 
step do you with him climb the rugged steep ; and, as 
you gain each succeeding eminence, he points you to 
new scenes and new delights ; — now grand — sublime ; 
now picturesque and beautiful; — always real. Most 
speakers fail to draw a perfect figure. This point I 
think Mr. Ward has gained. His figures, when done, 
stand out with prominence, possessing both strength 
and elegance. 

Douglass' imagery is fine — vivid — often gaudily 
painted. "Ward's pictures — ^bold, strong, glowing. 

Douglass speaks right on ; you acknowledge him to 
have been on the ground — nay, to have gone over the 
field ; Ward seeks for and finds the corners ; sticks 
the stakes, and leaves them standing ; we know where 
to find them. 

Mr. Douglass deals in generals ; Mr. Ward reduces 
everything to a point. 

Douglass is the lecturer ; Ward the debater. Doug- 
lass powerful in invective ; Ward in argument. What 



A Leaf froim 

advantage Douglass gains in mimicry Ward recovers 
in wit. 

Douglass has sarcasm, Ward point. 
Here, again, an essential difference may be pointed 
out : — 

Douglass says much, at times, you regret he uttered. 
This, however, is the real man, and on reflection you 
like him the better for it. What Ward says you feel 
to be but a necessity, growing out of the case, — that it 
ought to have been said — that you would have said 
precisely the same yourself, without adding or 
diminishing; a sin^de sentence. 

Douglass, in manner, is at all times pleasing; Ward 
seldom less so; often raises to the truly majestic, and 
never descends below propriety. If you regret when 
Douglass ceases to speak, you are anxious Ward 
should continue. 

Dignity is an essential quality in an orator — I mean 
true dignity. 

Douglass has this in an eminent degree; Ward no 
less so, coupled with it great self-possession. lie is 
never disconcerted — all he desires he says. 

In one of his replies to Mr. Douglass I was struck 
with admiration, and even delight, at the calm, digni- 

MY Scrap Book. 


fied manner in -wliicli lie expressed liimself, and his 
ultimate triumpli under what seemed to me very 
pecuhar circumstances. 

Douglass' was a splendid effort — a beautiful effusion. 
One of those outpourings from the deeps of his heart 
of which he can so admirably give existence to. 

He had brought down thunders of well-merited ap- 
plause ; and sure I am, that a whisper, a breath from 
almost any other opponent than Mr. "Ward, would 
have produced a tumult of hisses. 

Xot so, however, now. The quiet, majestic air, 
the suppressed richness of a deep-toned, but well- 
cultivated voice, as the speaker paid a few well-timed 
compliments to his opponents, disturbed not, as it had 
produced, the dead stillness around. 

Next followed some fine sallies of wit, which broke 
in on the calm. 

He then proceeded to make and accomphshed one 
of the most finished speeches to which I have ever 
listened, and sat down amidst a perfect storm of 

It was a noble burst of eloquence, — the gathericgs 
up of the choicest possible culled thoughts, and poured 
forth, mingling vdlh a unison of brilliant flashes and 


A Leaf from 

masterly strokes, following each other in quick suc- 
cession ; and thongli felt — deeply felt, no more to be 
described than the vivid lightning's zig-zag, as pro- 
duced from the deep-charged thunder-cloud. 

If Douglass is not always successful in his attempts 
to heave up his ponderous missiles at his opponents, 
from the point of hi^ descent, he always shows deter- 
mination and spirit. 

He is often too far down the pass^ however, (her- 
culean though he be,) for his intent. 

Ward, from the eminence he has gained, giant-hke, 
hurls them back with the force and skill of a prac- 
tised marksman, almost invariably to the detriment of 
his already fallen victim. 

In Douglass you have a man, in whose soul the iron 
of oppression has far entered, and you feel it. 

He tells the story of his wrongs, so that they stand 
out in all their naked ugliness. 

In "Ward, you have one with strong native powers, 
— I know of none stronger ; superadded a careful and 
extensive cultivation ; an understanding so matured, 
that fully enables him to successfully grapple with 
men or errors, and portray truth in a manner equalled 
by few. 

MY ScKAP Book. 173 

After all, it must be admitted, both are men of ex- 
traordinary powers of mind. 

Both well qualified for the task they have under- 

I have, rather than anything else, drawn these out- 
line portraits for our young men^ who can fill them up 
at leisure. . 

The subjects are both fine models, and may ba 
studied with profit by all, — especially those who are 
destined to stand in the front rank. 

NoTE.~It has been some years since the above sketch was 
drawn ; and though my impressions, especially of Mr. Douglass, has 
undergone some slight change since, — seeing in him enlarged, strength- 
ened, and more matured thought, still I think, on the whole, the care- 
ful observer will attest substantially to its correctness. 

JT gives me great pleasure to express iny interest in 
your objects, by the following sentiment: Sym- 
pathy for the slave, — ^the clearest exhibition in modern 
times of the spirit which, in the parable of the Samari- 
tan, first illumined the vTong of oppression, and the 
divineness of brotherly love. 

Coiisolatiou for l|e ^Iaije> 

Slave thougli thou art to -unfeeling power, 
Till wrong shall reacli lier final hour, 
Mourn not as one on whom the day 
Will never shed a healing ray. 
The star of hope, that leads the dawn. 
Appears, and night will soon be gone. 

Long has thy night of sorrow been, 
Without a star to cheer the scene. 
Nay ; there was One that watched and wept, 
When thou didst think all mercy slept ; 
That eye, which beams with love divine, 
Where all celestial glories shine. 

Justice will soon the sceptre take ; 
The scourge shall fall, the tyrant quake. 

Consolation for the Slave. 

Hark ! 'tis tlie voice of One from heaven ; 
The word, the high command is given, 
Break every yoke, loose every chain, 
To usher in the Saviour's reign." 


rjlIIE Key to Uncle Tom's Cabin : a key to unlock 
any mind that is not rendered inaccessible by tlie 
rust of conservatism or party-spirit, and to open the 
fountain of every generous affection, which is not 
closed with impenetrable ice. With this key may 
every one become familiar, who would know, and 
both in word and deed " bear witness to the truth !" 

Clje €nie glissioit of yibfrtij. 

F Liberty were to go on a pilgrimage all over the 

earth, she would find a home in every house, and 
a welcome in every heart. None would reject the 
£ivors she offers if brought to their, own doors. Sure 
and prompt as the impulses of instinct, every bosom 
would open to admit her and her blessings, but — 
when her gospel is proclaimed as a common bounty 
to all the world, — when she is seen visiting and feast- 
ing with publicans and sinners, and sitting with her 
unwashed disciples in familiar and loving companion- 
ship, Csesar and the synagogue are dike alarmed and 
enraged. When she is found daily in the market- 
place and on the mountain-top, in the hamlet and -on 
the highway, ministering to the multitude, healing 
and feeding them, — showing the same love and rever- 
ence for humanity in every variety of conditions, and 

True Mission of Liberty. 


however disguised or degraded, — tlie cruelty of caste 
And the bitterness of bigotry straightway take coun- 
sel among themselves how they may destroy her. 

Heaven help us ! Divided as we are, into the 
hating and the hated, the oppressors and the op- 
pressed, we have settled it, somehow, that we are of 
necessity at war with each other — that the welfare of 
one in some way depends upon the wretchedness of 
another. How much madness and misery would be 
spared if we could in any way learn that we are 

Cfje true B|int of |\cform. 

rjlHE religion of Jesus, acting as a vital principle in 
the individual heait, and thus leaving the entire 
mass of humanity, to this alone are we to look as of 
sufficient power to do away the evils that are now rife 
in the world. Just so far as the true spirit of Jesus is 
infused into the soul, and acts in the life of man, w^e 
know that sin, in its various forms of sensuality, 
oppression, and bloodshed, must disappear. All 
reforms, which are not based on this corner-stone, are 
superficial; and, however goodly their proportions 
may appear . to the eye of man, they want that firm 
foundation which will secure them against being 
undermined or overthrown by the force of adverse 
circumstances. Other foundation can no man lay, 
than that is laid," for the building up of all that is 
really excellent and heavenly. 

Tbue Spirit of Eeform. 181 

But, while we acknowledge tlie omnipotence of true 
religion for tlie ratification of all social wrongs, we 
are not to rest in tlie inculcation of its abstract princi- 
ples and outward forms alone. It is not enough, that 
we ourselves become, or persuade our fellow-men to 
become professed disciples of Jesus ; not enough that, 
in a general way, we urge the precepts of the gospel. 
The obtuseness of the human heart, when hardened 
by habit and early education, requires that we make 
particular application of the precepts of Christ, ai^d 
address our efforts to the removal of specific sins : the 
sins of our own age and country. It may be that our 
brother, sincerely intending to act in the sj)irit of 
Jesus, is yet blinded by the force of habit, and fails to 
see the sin in vdiich he is living. If our position 
make us to see more clearly than he the course he 
should pursue, let us endeavor gently to remove the 
veil from his eyes, remembering how often our own 
vision is dimmed by prejudice and outward circum- 
stances. In the moral, as well as in the natural world, 
we believe that God demands our active cooperation ; 
and, as the farmer not only sows the seed, but roots 
out the weeds from among the grain, so are we to 
endeavor to eradicate from the broad field of the moral 



S P I F. I T 

OF Eeform. 

world those evil practices widcli obstruct the growth 
or tlie harvest of pure and undefiled religion. 

" The husbandman waiteth for the precious fruit of 
the earth, and hath long patience for it, until he 
receive the early and latter rain." So are we obliged 
often to have ''long patience,*' until we see the mani- 
fest blessing of God on our labors. But patient, 
waiting becomes a virtue, only when combined with 
the exercise of our best powers in promoting the 
ect of our desire. We must adapt our efforts to 
the express object which we seek to attain. Taking 
those spiritual weapons which are ''mighty for the 
pulling down of the strongholds'' of sin, let us assault 
the great evils of slavery and oppression of every 
name and kind, always marching under the banners 
of the Prince of Peace, whose conquests are achieved 
not by violence, but by the subduing power of God- 
like love. Let us go forth, brethren, sisters, a feeble 
band though we may seem to the eye of man, yet 
strong in the assurance that the hosts of heaven are 
encamped round about us, and that more are they 
that are with us, than they that are'' on the side of 
the oppressor; and let us not falter until in God's own 
good time the word shall oe spoken, not as, we 

True Spirit of Eeform. 


would hope, in the whirlwind or the earthquake, but 
in the "still small voice" of the oppressor's own con- 
viction, saying to the slaves, " Go free F' 

% mtkmt to gn. |j. % mu, 

oil ^cr ^^leturit from €m^L 

She comes, she comes, o'er ihe bounding wave, 

Borne swift as an eagle's flight ; 
She comes, the tried friend of the slave, — 

Truth's champion for the right. 

Not, as the blood-stained warrior comes, 
With shrill-sounding fife and drums ; 

But peaceful by our quiet homes, 
The conquering hej*oine comes. 

Then welcome to our Pilgrim shore, 

Tho' sad affliction^* meet thee ; 
Three million welcomes from God's poor, 

The south winds bear, to greet thee. 

* ThQ sidoiess of her daughter. 

A Welcome to Mrs. H. B. Stowe. 

To thee, with chain-linked hearts we come, 
Which naught but death can sever. 

To thank thee for thy Uncle Tom," 
Thy gentle-hearted ^' Eva." 

When the crushed slave himself shall own, 

Three million fetters broken. 
Shall mount before thee, to the Throne ; 

Of thy true life, the token. 

Then welcome to our northern hills ; 

Thy own Xew England dwelling ; 
The birds, the trees, the sparkling rills, 

All, are thy welcome swelling. 

Rochester, N. Y., October 19th, 1853. 

r to a r h 


It is a time of swell and flood, 

We linger on tlie strand, 
And all that might to us bring good 

Lies in the distant land. 

O forward ! forward ! why stand still ? 

The flood will ne'er run dry ; 
Who through the wave not venture will, 

That land shall never spy. 

rjpHE question is often asked, both, in Canada and in 
the United States : What have we in Canada to 
do. with the Institution of Slavery, as it exists in the 
neighboring Eepublic? I do not think that a better 
answer is necessary, than that which is contained in 
the following extracts — the former of which is taken 
from a speech delivered by George Thompson, Esq., 
at the formation of the Anti-Slavery Society of 
Canada — the latter from the valuable work of the 
Rev. Albert Barnes on Slavery : 

Are we separated geographically and politically 
from the country where slavery reigns ? We are, for 
that very reason, the persons best able to form an un- 
biassed and sound judgment on the question at issue. 
We have as much to do with this question as with 
any question that concerns the happiness of man, the 


What has Canada 

glory of God, or the hopes and destinies of the human 
race. We have to do with this question, for it lies at 
the foundation of our own rights as a portion of the 
human family. The cause of liberty is one all over 
the world. "What have you to do with this question ? 
The slave is your brother, and you cannot dissolve 
that Union. While he remains God's child he vrill 
remain your brother. He is helpless, and you are free 
and powerful ; and if you neglect him, you are not 
doing as you would have others do to you, were you 
in bonds. Know you not that it is God's method to 
save man by man, and that man is only great, and 
honorable, and blest himself, as he is the friend and 
defender of those who need his aid. You are dwellers 
on the same continent Avith three millions of slaves. 
Their sighs come to you with every breeze from the 
South. Oh, haste to help them, that this glorious 
continent may be freed from its pollution and its 

Extract from Barnes on slavery : 
Slavery pertains to a great wrong done to our 
common nature, and affects great questions, relating 
to the final triumph of the principles of justice and 
humanity. The race is one great brotherhood, and 

TO DO WITH Slavery? 


every man is under obligation, as far as he lias the 
ability, to defend those principles which will perma- 
nently promote the welfare of the human family. 
« ❖ ❖ « The questions of right and 
wrong know no geographical limits ; are bounded by 
no conventional lines ; are circumscribed by the wind- 
ings of no river or stream, and are not designated by 
climate or by the course of the sun. There are no 
enclosures within which the question of right and 
wrong may not be carried with the utmost freedom." 

Other answers might be given, but these are quite 

Cfje ^u^itik ^lalie Sill: a ifraQmeitt. 

jgUT ours is the saddest part of tliis sad business. 

It would be hard enough to live surrounded by 
bondmen, even though we had never known any 
other way of life. Still, for one who had grown 
up with young slaves for playmates and for nurses, 
there might be much in the relation to quiet the con- 
science and soothe the sensibilities. Strong attach- 
ments, we all know, are often realized, even in a 
condition of things so anomalous. Perhaps, too, a 
large number of those about us would be as feeble in 
capacity as humble in their circumstances. One so 
born might tolerate such a position. But how differ- 
ent, — how, in comparison, and in every way intolera- 
ble, to be set as watchmen and interceptors of these, the 
brighter and the better, who, beyond all controversy, 
liave outgrown the estate of bondage, and who are so 

The Fugitive Slave Bill. 191 

loudlj called of God to be freemen, that they will 
brave any peril in obedience to the call 1 How can 
we do this and still be men and Christians ? Would 
our brethren at the south do it for us ? If we have, 
in our haste, so covenanted, must we not rather pay 
the penalty than fulfil the bond ? I recognize obedi- 
ence to civil government as the solemn duty of all 
save those who without cause are made outlaws hj the 
State, Government protects our hearths and shelters 
those who are dearest to us. But we can honor the 
law by submitting to its penalties as well as by com- 
plying with its demands, and the penalty would be 
my election when a man who had seized his manhood 
at the peril of his life should claim of me shelter and 
the means of escape. Before I refuse that, ^' may my 
right hand forget its cunning and my tongue cleave 
to the roof of my mouth." 

iifjc (tncroiidjmcnt cf tfje .§labe-^olDcn 


gUCH is tlie unholy and gigantic power that, leav- 
ing its territorial domain, has usurped the seat of 
freedom — ^that has established at our capitol a central 
despotism, and bends to its will with iron hand the 
Legislative, Executive, and Judicial branches of our 
Federal Government. 

I have marvelled, sir, as you have, that the Spirit 
of Freedom in our fair land has so long slumbered 
beneath such an outrage. But I imagine her awaken- 
ing. As she is about to awaken in her strength, and 
with the voice of the people, like the sound of many 
waters, rebuking this insolent slave-power, as Milton 
tells us its father and inventor was of old rebukedi 
as he sought to pass the bounds of his prison-house, 
and to darken with his presence the realms of light — 

Bkceoachment of Slave-Power. 

"And reckon'st thou thyself with spirits of Heaven, 
Hell-doom'd I and breath'st defiance here and scorn, 
Where I reign King, and to enrage thee more 
Thy King and Lord ? Back to thy punishment 
False fugitive, and to thy speed add wings, 
Lest with a whip of scorpions I pursue 
Thy lingering, or with one stroke of this dart. 
Strange horrors seize thee and pangs unfelt before." 

Faitlifully yours, 

Cfje Jbljonur of Ifiibor. 

rjpHE fundamental, essential cause of slavery and its 
concomitants, ignorance, degradation and suffering 
on tl^e one side, as of idleness, prodigality and luxury- 
bom disease on tlie other, is a false idea pf the nature 
and offices of Labor. 

Labor is not truly a curse, as lias too" long been as- 
serted. It only becomes sucli through human per- 
verseness, misconception and sin. It was no curse to 
the first pair in Eden, and Trill not be to their descend- 
ants, whenever and wherever the spirit of Eden shall 
pervade them. It is only a curse because too many 
seek to engToss the product of others' work, yet do 
Httle or none themselves. If the secret were but out, 
that no man can really enjoy more than his oivn moderate 
daily lalor would produce^ and none can trvly enjoy this 
without doing the worlc^ the death-knell of Slavery in 

The Dishokoe of Laboe. 195 

general — ^in its subtler as well as its grosser forms — 
would be rung. Until tbat truth shall be thoroughly 
diffused, the cunning and strong will be able to prey 
upon the simple and feeble, whether the latter be called 
slaves or something else. 

The great reform required is not a work of hours 
nor of days, but of many years. It must first per- 
vade our literature, and thence our current ideas and 
conversation, before it can be infused into the common 
life. Meanwhile, it would be well to remember that — ■ 

Every man who exchanges business for idleness, not 
because he has become too old or infirm to work, but 
because he has become rich enough to live without 
work ; 

Every man who educates his son for a profession, 
rather than a mechanical or agricultural calling, not 
because of that son's supposed fitness for the former 
rather than the latter, but because he imagines Law, 
Physic or Preaching, a m^ore respectable, genteel voca- 
\ tipn, than building houses or growing grain ; 

Every maiden who prefers in marriage a rich suitor 
of doubtful morals or scanty brains to a poor one, of 
sound principles, blameless life, good information and 
sound sense ; ' 

196 The Dishonor of Labor. 

Every motlierwlio is pleased wlien lier daugliter re- 
ceives marked attention from a ricli lawyer or mer- 
cliant, but frowns on tlie addresses of a young farmer 
or artisan of slender property, but of well-stored mind, 
good cliaracter and industrious, provident habits ; 

Every young man wlio, in clioosing the sharer of 
his fireside and the future mother of his children, is 
less solicitous as to what she is good for, than as to 
how much she is worth ; 

Every youth who is trained to regard little work 
and much recompense — short business-hours and long 
, dinners — as the chief ends of exertion and as assu- 
rances of a happy life ; 

Every teacher who thinks more of the wages than 
of the opportunities for usefulness afforded by his or 
her vocation ; 

Every rich Abolitionist, who is ashamed of being 
caught by distinguished visiters while digging in his 
garden or plowing in the field, and wishes them to 
understand that he so works, not for occupation, but 
for pastime ; and 

Every Abolition lecturer who would send a hireling 
two miles after a horse, whereon to ride three miles to 
fulfil his next appointment respectably ; 

The Disho^^or of Labor. 


ThoTigL. meaning no sucli thing, and perhaps 
shocked when it is suggested, is a practical and power- 
ful upholder of the continued enslavement of our 

In the faith of the " good time coming," 
I remain yours, 

HoPvACE Greeley. 

NewYork, jS'ov. '7, 1853. 

of Coloiti^iitioit 

I SPEAK the words of soberness and trutli wlien I 
say, that the most inveterate, the most formidable, 
the deadliest enemy of the peace, prosperity, and 
happiness of the colored population of the United 
States, is that system of African colonization which 
originated in and is perpetuated by a -worldly, 
Pharoah-hke pohcy beneath the dignity of a magnan- 
imous and Christian people ; — a system which receives 
much of its vitahty from ad captandum appeals to 
popular prejudices, and to the unholy, grovelling 
passions of the canaille; — a system that interposes 
every possible obstacle in the way of the improvement 
and elevation of the colored man in the land of his 
birth; — ^that instigates the enactment of laws whose 
design and tendency are obviously to annoy him, to 
make him feel, while at home, that he is a stranger 

The Evils of Colointiz ation. 199 

and a pilgrim — nay more, — to make him " wetclied, 
• and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked;" — to 
make Mm ^' a hissing and a by- word," a fugitive and 
a vagabond" tlirougliout the American Union; — a 
system that is so irreconcilably opposed to the pur- 
pose of God in making of one blood all nations for 
to dwell on all the face of the earth," that when the 
dying slaveholder, under the lashes of a guilty con- 
science, would give to his slaves unqualified freedom, 
it wickedly interposes, and persuades him that ^' to do 
justly and love mercy" would be to inflict an irrepar- 
able injury upon the community, and that to do his 
duty to God and his fellow-creatures, under the cir- 
cumstances, he should bequeath to his surviving 
slaves the cruel alternative of either expatriation to a 
far-off^ pestilential clime, with the prospect of a premature 
death, or perpetvMl slavery, with its untold horrors, in his 
native land. Against this most iniquitous system of 
persecu.tion and proscription of an inoffensive people, 
for no other reason than that we wear the physical 
exterior given us in infinite wisdom and benevolence, 
I would record, nay engrave with the pen of a 
diamond, my most emphatic and solemn, protest; 
more especially would I do so, as the system, under 

200 The Evils of Colonizatioi^. 

animadversion, is most inconsistently fostered, and 
shamelessly lauded, by ministers of the gospel in the 
nineteenth century, as a scheme of Christian philan- 
thropy ! ^'0 my soul, come not thou into their 
secret ; unto their assembly, mine honor, be not thou 

Toronto, C. W., Oct. 31st. 

C|e f asis of tlje ^meritait Coiistitulioit 

^^JJAPPY," (said Wasliington, wlieii annoimcing 
the treaty of peace to the army,) thrice 
happy shall they be pronounced hereafter, who shall 
have contributed anything, who shall have performed 
the meanest office in erecting this stupendous fabric of 
freedom and empire on the broad basis of indepen- 
dency, who shall have assisted in protecting the Eights 
of Human ISTature, and estabhshing an asylum for the 
poor and oppressed of all nations and religions." 

You remember well that the Eevolutionary Con- 
gress in the declaration of independence placed the 
momentous controversy between the Colonies and 
Great Britain on the absolute and inherent equality 
of all men. It^ is not, however, so well understood 
that that body closed its existence on the adoption of 

the Federal Constitution with this solemn injunction, 



The Basis of the 

addressed to tlie people of tlie United States : Let it 
be remembered tliat it lias ever been tlie pride and 
boast of America, tbat tlie Eights for wliicli slie con- 
tended Tvere the Eiglits of Human j^atnre." 

Xo one "vrill contend tliat our Fathers, after effect- 
ing tlie Eevolution and tlie independence of tlieir 
country, by proclaiming this system of beneficent 
political philosophy, established an entirely different 
one in the constitution assigned to its government. 
This philosophy, then, is the basis of the American 

It is, moreover, a true philosophy, deduced from the 
nature of man and the character of the Creator. If 
there were no supreme laT^^, then the world would be 
a scene of universal anarchy, resulting from the eter- 
nal conflict of pecuhar institutions and antagonistic 
laws. There being such a universal law, if any human 
constitution and laws differing from it could have any 
authority, then that universal law could not be 
supreme. That supreme law is necessarily based on 
the equality of nations, of races, and of men. It is a 
simple, self-e^ddent basis. One nation, race, or indi- 
vidual, may not oj^press or injure another, because the 
safety and welfare of each is essential to the common 

Ameeican Constitution. 203 

safety and welfare of all. If all are not equal and free, 
then wlio is entitled to be free, and what evidence of 
his superiority can he bring from nature or revelation ? 
All men necessarily have a common interest in the 
promulgation and maintenance of these principles, be- 
cause it is equally in the nature of men to be content 
with the enjoyment of their just rights, and to be dis- 
contented under the privation of them. Just so far as 
these principles practically prevail, the stringency of 
government is safely relaxed, and peace and harmony 
obtain. But men cannot maintain these principles, or 
even comprehend them, without a very considerable 
advance in knowledge and virtue. The law of nations, 
designed to preserve peace among mankind, was un- 
known to the ancients. It has been perfected in our 
own times, by means of the more general dissemina- 
tion of knowledge and practice of the virtues incul- 
cated by Christianity. To disseminate knowledge, and 
to increase virtue therefore among men, is to establish 
and maintain the principles on which the recovery and 
preservation of their inherent natural rights depend ; 
and the State that does this most faithfully, advances 
most effectually the common cause of Human N'ature. 
For myself, I am sure that this cause is not a 


The Basis of the 

dreanij but a reality. Have not all men conscionsness 
of a property in the memory of linman transactions 
available for tlie same great purposes, tlie security of 
tlieir individual rights, and tlie perfection of tlieir in- 
dividual happiness ? Have not all men a conscious- 
ness of the same equal interest in the achievements of 
invention, in the instructions of philosophy, and in 
the solaces of music and the arts ? And do not these 
achievements, instructions, and solaces, exert every- 
where the same influences,- and produce the same 
emotions in the bosoms of all men ? Since all lan- 
guages are convertible into each other, by correspond- 
ence with the same agents, objects, actions, and emo- 
tions, have not all men practically one common lan- 
guage ? Since the constitutions and laws of all societies 
are only so many various definitions of the rights and 
duties of men as those rights and duties are learned 
from Nature and Eevelation, have not all men practi- 
cally one code of moral duty ? Since the religions of 
men, in their various climes, are only so many differ- 
ent forms of their devotion towards a Supreme and 
Almighty Power entitled to their reverence and re- 
ceiving it under the various names of Jehovah, Jove, 
and Lord, have not all men practically one religion ? 

American Cokstitutiok. 


Since all men are seeking liberty and happiness for a 
season here, and to deserve and so to secure more per- 
fect liberty and happiness somewhere in a future 
world, and, since they all substantially agree that 
these temporal and spiritual objects are to be attained 
only through the knowledge of truth and the prac- 
tice of virtue, have not mankind practically one com- 
mon pursuit through one common way of one com- 
mon and equal hope and destiny ?• 

If there had been no such common Humanity as I 
have insisted upon, then the American people would 
not have enjoyed the sympathies of mankind when 
establishing institutions of civil and rehgious liberty 
here, nor would their estabhshment here have 
awakened in the nations of Europe and of South 
America desires and. hopes of similar institutions 
there. If there had been no such common Humanity, 
then Yv^e should not ever, since the American Eevo- 
lution, have seen human society throughout the world 
divided into two parties, the high and the low — the 
one perpetually foreboding and earnestly hoping the 
downfall, and the other as confidently predicting and 
as sincerely desiring, the durabihty of Eepubhcan 
Institutions. If there had been no such common 

206 The Basis of the 

Humanity, tlien we should not have seen this tide of 
emigration from insular and continental Europe flow- 
ing into our country tlirougli tlie channels of the St. 
Lawrence, the Hudson, and the Mississippi, — ebbing, 
however, always with the occasional rise of the hopes 
of freedom abroad, and always swelling again into 
greater volume when those premature hopes subside. 
If there were no such common Humanity, then the 
poor of Great Britain would not be perpetually ap- 
pealing to us against the oppression of landlords on 
their farms and work-masters in their manufactories 
and mines ; and so, on the other hand, we should not 
be, as we are now, perpetually framing apologies to 
mankind for the continuance of African slavery 
among ourselves. If there were no such common 
Humanity, then the fame of Wallace would have long 
ago died away in his native mountains, and the name 
even of Washington would at most have been only a 
household word in Virginia, and not as it is now, a 
watchword of Hope and Progress throughout the 

If there had been no such common Humanity, 
then when the civilization of Greece and Eome had 
been consumed by the fires of human pSssion, the 

American Constitution. 


nations of modern Europe could never have gathered- 
from among its aslies the philosophy, the arts, and the 
religion, which were imperishable, and have recon- 
structed with those materials that better civilization, 
which, amid the conflicts and fall of political and 
ecclesiastical systems, has been constantly advancing 
towards perfection in every succeeding age. If there 
had been no such common Humanity, then the dark 
and massive Egyptian obelisk would not have every- 
where reappeared in the sepulchral architecture of our 
own times, and the light and graceful orders of Greece 
and Italy would not as now have been the models of 
our villas and our dwellings, nor would the simple 
and lofty arch and the delicate tracery of Gothic de- 
sign have been as it now is, everywhere consecrated to 
the service of religion. 

If there had been no such common humanity, 
then would the sense of the obligation of the Deca- 
logue have been confined to the despised nation who 
received it from Mount Sinai, and the prophecies of 
Jewish seers and the songs of Jewish bards would 
have perished forever with their temple, and never 
afterwards could they have become as they now are, 
the univeAal utterance of the spiritual emotions and 

208 The American Constitution. 

hopes of mankind. K tliere had been no sucli com- 
mon humanity, then certainly Europe and Africa, and 
even new America, would not, after the lapse of cen- 
turies, have recognized a common Eedeemer, from all 
the sufferings and perils of human life, in a culprit 
who had been ignominiously executed in the obscure 
Eoman province of Judea ; nor would Europe have 
ever gone up in arms to Palestine, to wrest from the 
unbelieving Tark the tomb where that culprit had 
slept for only three days and nights after his descent 
from the cross, — much less would his traditionary 
instructions, preserved by fishermen and publicans, 
have become the chief agency in the renovation of 
human society, through after-coming ages. 

Wu. H. Seward. 


" Could I embody and unbosom now, 
That wbicb is most within me ; — could I wreak 
My tliouglits upon expression, and thus throw 
Soul, heart, mind, passions, feelings strong or weak. 
All that I would have sought, and all I seek. 
Bear, know, and feel, and breathe, — into one word, 
And that one word were lightning " — 

I would speak it, not to crush the oppressor, but to 
melt the chains of slave and master, so that hoth 
should go free. 

New York, November 8tb, 1853. 


j^lRS. Goodman, a widow. 
Frank Goodmax, her son. 

Mr. Frkfjian, a Southern gentleman^ hroiher to Mrs. Gocd/nan. 
Mr. Dryman, a boarder. 

R. Fkeemax. {Sipping his coffee and holcing over the 

^' The performance of Uncle Tom's Caliin attracts 
to the theatre very unusual audiences. In the "gen- 
teel row" last evening, we observed the strictest relig- 
ionists of the day, not excepting puritanic Presbyte- 
rians, and the sober disciples of "Wesley and Fox. 
For ourselves, "we must candidly confess we have 
never witnessed such a play upon all the emotions of 
which humanity is susceptible. Mrs. Stowe, however 
unworthy the name of Patriot, is at least entitled to 
the credit of seizing the great thought of the age, and 

viorning paper) reads — 

A Dialogue. 


embodying it in siicli a form as to make it presentable 
to every order of mind and every class of society. 
She says, in effect, to Legislators, let me fumisli your 
amusements, and I care not Tvho makes your laws." 

Politicians would do well to look to this — (laying 
down ihe paper and speaking in a tone of impatience) — • 
so, so. Fanaticism is leading to its legitimate results. 
Uncle Tom in our parlors. Uncle Tom in our pulpits, 
and Uncle Tom in our plays. 

J//\ Dry man. Truly he eateth with publicans and 

Mr, F. (Xot noticing Mr, D.'s remark.) One would 
think this last appropriation of the vaunted hero 
would be su8S.cient to convince the most radical of 
the demoralizing influence of these publications. 

Frank. {Modestly.) How differently people judge. 
"Why, last evening, when I saw crowds of the hard- 
ened and dissipated shedding tears of honest sympa- 
thy, when Uncle Tom and Eva sang, 

"I see a band of spirit* bright, 
And conquering pakos they bear" — 

I felt that the moral sentiment was asserting its su- 
premacy even in places of amusement. 

212 A Dialogue. ^ 

3Tr. F. TTorse and worse, my nephew and name- 
sake a theatre-goer. 

Mr. D, {In an under tojie,) Namesake I that's the 
unkmdest cut of all." 

Frank. Xot exactly a theatre-goer, uncle, though I 
confess I might be, were the performance always as 
excellent as last evening. 

Mrs. Goodman. Frank, my son, I hope thee will 
not attempt to drink from a dirty pool because a pure 
stream flows into it 

FranJ:. But the rank and file of Democracy drank 


deep libations to Liberty there, mother. 

Mr. D. {Passing his cup.) Drink deep or taste not 
of the Pierian spring." 

Mr. F. {SarcastimUy.) Take care, you 11 be found 
using the products of slave labor ! 

Frank. {Jocosely.) 

*• HdiLk hovr many backs have smarted. 
For the streets," iS:o. 

Take a bit of toast, Mr. Dryman, our northern pro- 
ducts are perfectly innocent, you know ? 

Mr. D. {Helping himself houniifuUy) Ask no ques- 
tions for conscience's sake." 

A Dialogue. 213 

Mr, F. The practice of you Northerners is consist- 
ent with your professions. 

Mr, D, ^' Consistency, thou art a jewel!" 

Franh, It is very hard to be consistent in this 
world, uncle. My mother once made a resolution to 
use nothing polluted by Intemperance or Oppression, 
but finding that it required her to take constant 
thought what we should eat and drink, and where- 
withal we should be clothed," she was fain to relax 
her discipline. 

Mrs, G. Frank, thee must not transcend the truth 
in thy mirthfulness. 

Frank, Well, mother, did not some experiment of 
the kind lead to the conclusion, that I might exercise 
my freedom in worldly amusements ? 

Mrs. G, Yes, my son, but thy enthusiasm about the 
theatre makes me fear I have gone bej^ond my light. 

Mr. F, {Bitterly) iSTeyer fear, sister, the young man 
will soon prove that Abolition Societies and Theatres 
are admirable schools of morals. 

Franh, Uncle Tom at least has a good moral, and 
so has William Tell and Pizarro — indeed I do not re- 
member of ever reading a play which had not. 

Mr, F, {In a tone of irony) When I see a young 


A Dialogue. 

man spending his time at tlie theatre, in search of good 
morals, I think he ^' pays too dear for his whistle." 

Mrs. G, And yet brother Frank speaks the truth. 
What success does thee think a play would meet, 
which should represent such a man as Uncle Tom 
yielding his principles and foith to the vrill of a 

Mr, F. ( ^Yith great asperity) Do yon, too, Eebecca, 
advocate theatres ? 

Mrs, G, It is not of theatres^ but of books, that I 
am speaking. Does thee recollect any work, the whole 
plot and design of which is made to turn npon the 
triumph of the wicked over the good ? 

Mr, F. {Musing.) ^slij — I — don't remember now — 

Frank {In great surprise.) Wh}", mother, are there 
no books written in favor of Slavery ? 

Mrs, Q. I cannot think of an}' book which can be 
said to be written for Slavery, in tlie sense that Uncle 
Tom's Cabin is written against it. Such a Vv'ork is, I 
think, impossible. No poet would attempt to portray 
its moral aspects, and delineate its beauties, with the 
idea of exciting our admiration and aj^proval. 

Mr, F, Spoken just like a woman! Your sex al- 
ways seize upon some thought gained through the sen- 

A Dialogue. 


sibilities, and then brLD.g in a decision without farther 

Frank, And is not the instinct of a woman a more 
perfect guide in morals, than the reason of man ? 

Mr, F, {Sarcastically.) Certainly — if it direct her 
son to the theatre. 

Mr, D, Or teach him the supremacy of the ''Higher 

Frank, {With warmth) My mother did not direct 
me to the theatre, sir; she has taught me to love 
better things ; — to her I owe all the lofty sentiments 
of virtue and truth. 

Mrs, G, Softly, softly Frank, theatres and Slavery 
will be quite sufficient for this discussion, without in- 
troducing Woman's Rights. {To Mr. Freeman.) Would 
it not be more consistent, brother, for thee to disprove 
my argument, than to object to my method of obtain- 
ing it ? 

Mr, F, Nothing can be easier — you have asserted in 
round terms that no work was ever written in favor 
of Slavery. What an absurdity ! If you have any 
information you must know that the southern press 
groans with publications upon this topic. 

Mrs. G. Still if thee examine the matter, thee will 

216 A Dialogue. 

find that every one of tliese books treats Slavery as a 
curse, and describes it not as a good but an evil, of 
whicb eacli man loads tlie guilt upon liis forefathers or 
his neighbors. 

Mr, F, Granted they call it a curse, but assuredly 
they bring forward a defence. 

Mrs, G. Yes, they defend the Constitution ; they 
defend the rights of the south ; they advocate Coloni- 
zation, or point out the errors of Abolitionists, but 
-what one in word or in effect advocates the principles 
of human Slavery ? The truth is, brother, the system 
has the literature of the world against it ; and the 
south ought to see in this reading age an infallible 
sign that the days of its cherished institutions are 
numbered. Does thee not perceive that every novel 
and every poem carries to the parlor, or, if it please 
thee, to the theatre, an influence which will eventually 
re-act on the ballot-box. 

Frank, Do you mean, mother, to include in your 
remarks the discourses of Eeverend Divines upon the 
Patriarchal Institution ? 

Mrs, 0, I cannot except even these; for they ac- 
knowledge it an evil, though they contend its exists 
by divine ordination, just as they assert Original Sin 


A Dialogue. 


to be the offspring of Eternal Decrees ; but they no 
more convince the Slaveholder, that he loves his bond- 
man as himself, than they convict him of the gnilt of 
Adam's transgression. 

Mr. F, What do you say to Webster's great speech 
on the compromise measure? 

Mrs, G, {Pleasantly) Is not the moral view of a 
question, about as far as a woman's instinct ought to 

Mr, F. Oh, no; go on, your strictures are quite 


Mrs, Cf, Well, then, since we have taken the posi- 
tion of a reviewer, we must confess that the last effort of 
the great Daniel appears to us to be on an Act of Con- 

Mr, D, And at the Presidential chair. 

Mrs, G, {Continuing) It did not touch the merits of 

slavery at all. Webster knew the feelings of the 

constituents too well to attempt such a task. He 

therefore skilfully diverted their attention from his 

real issue, to the glorious Union, and its danger from 

agitators, and he thus carried with him the sympathies 

of many honest haters of oppression. 

Mr, F, Well, sister, I do not know but you will 


A Dialogue. 

prove that there is not an advocate for slavery on the 
face of the earth. 

Mrs. 0. OcAj such advocates as there is for robberj^ 
and war. Those who find it for their interest to prac- 
tice these crimes condemn them in the abstract, or at 
most only apologize for them, as necessary and ex- 
pedient, under peculiar cn-cumstances. 

Frank. {Laughing.) Why, mother, I shall certainly 
subscribe for your "ISTorth American Eaview," par- 
ticularly if j'ou fill the literary department as ably as 
3'ou have the moral and political, to test which, let me 
propound a question ? If the reward of the good be 
the charm of fiction, how do you account for the 
pleasure derived from traged}^, where the good are 
overwhelmed with the evil? 

Mrs. G. {Smiling) With great diffidence we reply 
to the query of our learned friend. The force of 
tragedy consists in its depicting evil so ruinous as to 
involve even the innocent in the catastrophe ; the 
pleasure is derived, we think, from the failure of the 
mischievous design, and the merited retribution which 
falls upon the head of the plotters. In Eomeo, " a 
scourge is laid upon the hate of the Montagues and 
Capulets, by v/hich all are punislied ;" Ilamlot's 


A Dialogue. 


-wicked uncle is justly served, drinking the poison 
tempered hy himself ; and lago pulls down ruin upon 
himself no less than upon Cassio. • 

Frank. {Bowing playfully.) Your review meets my 
entire approbation, inasmuch as it confirms my doc- 
trine, that theatres alvv^aj'S give their verdict in favor 
of virtue. 

Ifr, D. " Casting out devils through. Beelzebub." 

G. The artistic effect of every work of the 
imagination is wrought upon what critics call the 
^^sympathetic emotion of virtue," and the decisions of 
this faculty, so far as we understand them, always 
correspond with what Christians believe concerning 
the final restitution of all things." 

Frank, The theatre, then, ought to promote good 
raorals — why does it not ? 

Mr, D, 

" And many worthy men 
Maintained it might be turned to good account, 
And so perhaps it might, but never was." 

Mrs. O. The sjanpathetic emotion of virtue," not 
hiving an object, never rises to passion, and there- 
fore never produces action. Philosophers tell us 
that a thought of virtue passing often through the 

220 A Dialogue. 

mind, without being Trroiiglit out into a fact, ^^eakens 
the moral sense; thus people may read tlie best of 
books, and witness the finest exhibitions of moral 
beauty, and constantlj^ retrograde in yirtue. The 
dissolute characters of players, who continually utter 
the loftiest sentiments, and practice the lowest vices, 
are accounted for on this principle ; and we ought to 
judge the theatre as we do slavery, by its demoraliz- 
ing effect upon those engaged in it. 

J//\ F, Do you mean to say, Eebecca, that slave- 
holding has the same effect upon me that stage-play- 
ing has upon the actor ? 

Mrs, 0. Well, brother, I put it to thy own consci- 
ence. Does thee not, daily, in dealing with thy slaves, 
stifle thy emotions of piety, generosity, and love, and 
is it not easier to do this now than it was twenty years 
ago, when, with a heart full of tenderness and truth, 
thee left us for thy southern home ? 

Mi\ F, {Rising and pacing the room with great agi- 
tation.) Now, sister, you are going to introduce an- 
other absurdity ! Do I practice the principles learned 
in the nursery ? In o, I do not ! Do I beheve ^' honesty 
is the best policy " and its kindred humbugs ? Of 
course I don't ! Show me the man who does ? Do I 

A Dialogue. 221 

follow the precepts of the sermon on the Mount ? Xot 
I ! The man who should undertake to do so would 
make himself a perfect laughing-stock. I should like 
to see one of jour northern hypocrites attempt it. 
Ha! ha! ha! " L^'iJ i^ot up treasure upon earth," 
and "take no thought for the morrow;" why, what 
else do people take thought for, either xsorth or 
South ? It is not what they shall eat, drink, or wear 
to day, that worries them, but how they shall lay up 
somethino' for themselves or their children hereafter. 
You silly women are always . talking about righteous- 
ness, as if you really thought it could enter in human 
plans, but we men of the world, who have to wring 
the precious dollar from the hard hand of labor, know 
better ! I tell you, Eebecca, I don't beheve there is a 
business-man in your pious Quaker city even, Vv^ho 
would dare acquaint his wife and daughters with all 
his little arrangements for amassing wealth. Ha! ha! 
ha ! How the pretty things would stare at the tricks 
of the trade, and simper: ''Is that right?" As 
though anybody thought business principles were 
gospel principles ! As though they expected a man 
was going to love his neighbor as himself, when he 
was making a bargain with him 1 It provokes me to 


A Dialogue. 

see yoTi make yourself so ridiculous ! You ought to 
know tliat every man ads on tke principle, tkat 
Wealth is tlie chief good and you ought to know, 
too, that there the slaveholders have the advantage of 
you entirely. They do right to work, and grind it 
out of the slaves on a large scale, and call Abraham 
and Moses to witness the patriarchal method, while 
3^our northern mercenaries scheme and speculate how 
they can turn a penny out of ignorance and jDOverty, 
and have not even the apology of a precedent for 
their meanness. Why, one of our generous southern 
planters is as far abovQone of your stingy sliave-three- 
cents-on-a-yard-tradesmen, as Eobin Hood is above a 
miserable tea-spoon burglar. The south sails under 
false colors, does it ? What flag do your platform 
men give to the wind, I should like to know ? What 
do they care for the Fugitive Slave Law ? Half of 
them would help a runaway to Canada with as good a 
will as they'd eat their dinner. {Coming dose and 
sitting down, so as to loojc fixedly in her face.) I'll tell 
you what, sister, the chivalry of the south responds to 
you northern Christians who prate so loud of brother- 
hood and charity, in the words of young Cancer to 

A Dialogue. 


his motlier — Liberder tuis prceceptis obseqimr^ si te 
prius idem facientem videroP 

Mrs. G. {very gently) These strictures, brother, are 
too keenly just. They remind me of Kossuth's asser- 
tion, that there is not yet a Christian nation on the 
earth, nor yet a Christian church, that dare venture 
entirely upon the principles of the Gospel. Still, the 
aberration of reformers proves no more in favor of 
slavery, than the vices and miseries of civilized life 
prove that barbarism is the natural and happy state 
of the human race ; nay, these very aberrations prove 
that a centripetal power counteracts the opposing force, 
and holds them Avithin the genial influence of the 
sun of truth. 

The law of spiritual gravitation is little understood. 
But thousands of philosophers are closely observing 
the phenomena, and carefully comparing them with 
the data given in the Sermon on the Mount ; and it is 
not too much to hope that this generation will give to 
the w^orld a Newton, w^hose moral mathematics shall 
demonstrate that the laio of love is the true theory of 
individual and national prosperity. 

Mr. F. Well, sister, I wish you much joy of your 
millennial state ; but before the Sermon on the Mount 


A Dialogue. 

becomes tlie code of nations, I guess you mil 

Mr, D, {intemipting.) ''A little more grape, Captain 
Bragg r 

FranT:, I tell you, uncle, ^'there's a good time 
coming." Mother is a prophet. I have matched lier 
words all my life, and I never knew tliem fall to the 
grou ^d. 

Mrs. G, Observe, my friends, that the Sermon on 
the M^nt puts blessing before requirement. If you 
accept these beatitudes as the gift of your Divine 
Master, yc* will find that obedience to the precepts 
which follow, not the imwilling service of a bonds- 
man, but the fre'^ and natural action of an unfranchised 

Clovee street Sem., XoYt--^i>€r 10th, 1853. 

% Cime of fustire toill Come 

"E are conscious of tie odium that rests upon us. 

We feel ttiat we are wronged ; but we are not 
impatient for the righting of our wrongs. We bide 
our time. The men that shall come after us, will do 
us justice. The present generation of America cannot 
"judge righteous judgment," in the case of the uncom- 
promising friends of freedom, religion, and law. They 
are so debauched and blinded by slavery, and by the 
perverse and low ideas of freedom, religion, and law, 
which it engenders, that they "call evil good, and 
good evil ; put darkness for light, and light for dark- 
ness ; put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter." They 
have been living out the lie of slavery so long, and 
have been, thereby, deadening their consciences so 
long, as to be now well nigh incapable of perceiving 
the wide and everlasting distinctions between truth 
and falsehood. 

Geebit S]viith. 


! WHAT a strange thing is the human heart ! 

With its youth, and its joy and fear ! 
It doats upon creatures that day-dreams impart, — 
Full sorely it grieves when their beauties depart, 

And weeps bitter tears over their bier. 

The veriest gleamings that dart into birth, 
Eeveal to its beino; of li2:ht : 

o o 

The dimliest shadows that flit upon earth, 
Allure it, with promise of pleasure and mirth 
In a country, where never is night. 

It leaves the sure things of its own real home. 

To pursue the mere phantoms of thought ! 
Well knowing, that certain, there soon must come, 
An end to the visions, that so gladsome, 
It bewilder'd, has eagerly sought. 

Hope and Confidence. 


It fleetli the wholesome prose of life, 

With its riches all sure and told : 
And scorning the beauties, that calmly in strife 
Truth fashions, it longs for the things all rife 

With glitter, and color, and gold. 

It buildeth its home ^neath an ever calm sky, 

Near streams wherein crown-jewels sleep,— 
And there it reposeth : while soothingly nigh, 
Some loved one, perchance, doth most wooingly sigh, 
As the zephyrs ail full-laden creep. 

Thus it musingly wasteth its strength, in dreams 

Of bliss, that can never prove true : 
And ever it revels amid what seems, 
A paradise smiling with Hope's warm beams, 

And flowers all spangled wdth dew. 

But, even as flowers are broken and fade. 

And yield up their perfumes— their souls, — 
So vanish the colors of which dreams are made, — 
So perish the structures on which Hope is staid, 
And the treasures to which the heart holds^ 

228 Hope and Coxfidexce. 

In vain does it follow tlie wandering forms 

That promise, yet always recede : — 
Too briefly the snnshine is darkened by storms : 
Hope minstrels it onward, yet never informs 

Of tlie dangers nnseen, that impede. 

The Heart trusts the outward : " Of man 'tis the whole.'' 

Thus Confidence clings to decay ! 
It feels the sweet homage that riches control, — ■ 
And laughs in contempt at the wealth of the soul : 

And behold ! now, friends wait for their prey. 

It trusteth in glory, and beauty, and youth, — 

In love-vows that ne'er are to die : 
But soon the Death-king, in whose heart is no ruth, 
Enfolds it, — and mounting aloft, of Truth 

Thus sings, as turns glassy the eye. 

There's nothing so lovely and bright below, 

As the shapes of the purified mind ! 
Nought surer to which the weak heart can grow, 
On which it can rest, as it onward doth go. 

Than that Truth which its own tendrils bind. 

Hope and Confidence. 


" Yes . Trutli opes witliin a pure sun-lide of bliss, 

And shows in its ever calm flood, 
A transcript of regions, wliere no darkness is, 
Where Hope its conceptions may realize. 

And Confidence sleep in * The Good.' " 

% ICctttr lljat SjJoLs for |tsclf. 

To T M 

JJISINTEEESTED benevolence, mj dear sir, hasr 
nothing at all to do with abolitionism. Xaj, I 
doubt very mncli if there is such a thing as disinter- 
ested benevolence ; but be this as it may, there is no 
occasion for it in the anti-slavery ranks. 

It is selfishness, — sheer selfishness, that has thus far 
carried on the war with slavery and wrong in all times ; 
and selfishness must break the chains of the American 

Self-love has fixed the chain around the arm of every 
leader and every soldier in the American anti-slavery 
army. Where would William Lloyd Garrison have 
been to-day, if any combination of circumstances could 
have shut in his soul's deep hatred of oppression, and 
prevented its finding utterance in burning words? 

A Letter. 


He would liave been dead and rotten. It is necessary 
to his own existence that he should work, — work for 
the slave ; and in his work he gratifies all the strong- 
est instincts of his nature, more completely than even 
the grossest sensualist can gratify his^ by unlimited in- 

Gerritt Smith, too. Suppose he was compelled to 
hoard his princely fortune, or spend it as most others 
do ! dear ! what a dyspeptic we should have in six 
months ; and all the hydropathic institutes in the 
country could never keep him alive five years. 

John P. Hale would soon be done with his rotund 
person and jovial face, if he could no longer send the 
sharp arrows of his wit and sarcasm into the con- 
sciences of his human- whipping neighbors. 

It is a necessity of all great nations to hate mean- 
ness, and nothing under God's heaven ever was so 
mean as American slavery. Think of it. Men who 
swagger around with pistols and bowie-knifes to 
avenge their insulted honor, if any one should ques- 
tion it, — imagine one turning up his sleeves to horse- 
whip an old woman for burning his steak, or pocket- 
ing her wages, earned at the wash-tub ! 

No one with a soul above that of a pig-louse, could 



A Letter that 

help loathing the system, the instant he saw it in its 
native meanness. Then, in order to keep his own 
self-respect, — ^to gratify the love of the good and true 
in his own soul, he must express that loathing. 

No disinterestedness about doing right, for nobodj 
can be so rhuch interested in the act as the doer of it. 

Wrong-doing is the only possible self-abnegation, 
of which the whole range of thought admits. 

All the humiliation and agony of the Saviour him- 
self, were necessary to himself Nothing less could 
Lave expressed the infinite love of the Divine nature ; 
and in working out a most perfect righteousness for 
those he loved, he also wrought out a most perfect 
happiness for himself 

The eternal law of God links the happiness of all 
the creatures made in His image in an electric chain, 
united in the Divine love ; and He, v^'ho has "a fellow- 
feeling for our infirmities," has given us a fellow-feeling 
with the sufferings of each other. So that no soul in 
which the Divine image is not totally obscured, can 
know of the mis^y of another, without a sympathetic 
throb of sorrow. 

The true heart in Maine cannot knovv^ that the slave- 
motlier ia Georgia is weeping for her children, torn 

Speaks for Itself. 


from her arms by avarice, without feeling lier angiiisti 
palpitating in its inmost core. 

It is the pulsations of the sympathetic heart which 
stretches out the hand to interfere between her and 
her aggressor ; and abolitionists are just seeking a 
soft pillow that they may sleep o' nights." 

It is selfishness, I tell you, all selfishness ! The 
great whale Avhen she gives up her own large life to 
protect her young one, and the little wren when she 
carries all the nice tit bits to her babies, are as true to 
themselves as the old pig when she shoulders all her 
little family out of the trough. 

The whale enjoys death, and the wren her little fel- 
lows' supper, with a better zest than an old gTunter 
does her corn, and Wm. Gildersten in spending money 
and laboring to prevent any more scenes of brutal vio- 
lence in his State, by punishing the one past, gratifies 
his ov.m loves and longings quite as much as Judge 
Grier in grunting out his wrath against all lovers of 

The one would enjoy being hanged for the cause of 
God and Humanity, more than the other would the 
luxury of hanging him, even if he could have all the 
pleasure to himself, — ^be not only judge and persecu- 


A Letter. 

tor, as lie prefers, but inarshal, jailor, and hangman 
to boot. 

More than tliis, every creature, so far as otlier crea- 
tures are concerned, has a right to be happy in his own 
vray. Nero had as much right to wish for power to 
cut off all the heads in Italy at one blow, as an inno- 
cent pig to wish for capacity to eat all the corn in the 
world. Mankind has no right to punish either for the 
desire or its manifestation. They should onh' make 
fences to prevent the accomplishment of the wish. 

Americans have no right to punish Judge Grier for 
wishing to persecute everybody who attempts to en- 
force State laws against murderous assaults by his 
oflScers. They should content themselves with fenc- 
ing his Honor in, or, if necessary, putting a ring in 
his nose. He has as much right to be Judge Grier as 
George Washington had to be George Washington, 
and is no more selfish in following the iustincts of his 
nature, , than AYashington was in following his. 
Without any gi^eat respect. 

I am your friend. 

OxcE I wished I might rehearje 

Freedom's p^ean in mj verse, 

That the slave who caught the strain 

Should throb until he snapt his chain. 

But the Spirit said, JSTot so ; 

Speak it not, or speak it low ; 

Name not lightly to be said. 

Gift too precious to be prayed, 

Passion not to be exprest 

But by heaving of the breast ; 

Yet, — would'st thou the mountain find 

Where this deity is shrined, 

Who gives the seas and sunset-skies 

Their unspent beauty of surprise. 

And, when it lists him, waken can 

Brute and savage into man ; 


On Feeedom. 

Or, if in thy heart he shine, 
Blends the starry fates with thine, 
Draws angels nigh to dwell with thee, 
And makes thy thoughts archangels be ; 
Freedom's secret wonld'st thou know ? — 
Eight thou feelest rashly do. 


gOME years ago a free colored T\'oman, who Tvas born 
in New England, and had gone to the south to at- 
tend upon some family, was shipwrecked, as she was 
returning northwards, on the coast of North Carolina. 
She, however, as well as some of the crew of the 
vessel, was saved. The half-civilized people of that 
region rendered some assistance to the shipwrecked 
party ; but Mary Smith was detained by one of the 
natives as a slave. 

The poor woman succeeded in getting a letter 
written to some person in Boston, in which the parti- 
culars of her story were narrated. Either this letter, 
or one afterwards written, contained references to peo- 
ple in Boston who were acquainted with her. 


Maey Smith. 

It ^vas not very easy, even with these references, to 
get sufficient evidence to prove the freedom and iden- 
tity of an obscure person, who had been away from 
Boston for some years. A strong interest, however, 
was felt in the case wherever it became known. And 
Eev. Samuel Snowden, well-remembered by the name 
of Father Snowden, with his usual indomitable energy 
and perseverance in aiding persons of his own color 
in distress, succeeded in finding people in Boston who 
were well acquainted with Mary Smith, and recollected 
her having left that place to go to the south. Pur- 
suing his inquiries with great dihgence, he ascertained 
the place of her birth, which was somewhere in New 
Hampshire. I forget the name of the town. 

Affidavits were now jDrocured, which established the 
place of Mary Smith's birth, her residence in Boston, 
and the time of her departure for the south, and other 
circumstances to corroborate her story. 
• Edward Everett, who was at this time Governor of 
Massachusetts, at the request of Mary Smith's friends, 
forwarded the documents they had obtained, accom- 
panied Avith an urgent letter from himself, demanding 
her release from captivity, on the giwnd of her being 
a free citizen of Massachusetts. 

Mary Smith. 


The Go-vernor of JSTorth Carolina replied very 
courteously to Governor Everett. He admitted tlie 
right of the woman to her freedom, and acknowl- 
edged that no person in North Carolina could law- 
fully detain her as a slave. But, at the same time he 
said, that as Governor, he had no power to interfere 
with the person who held her in custody. The de- 
cision on her ri^ht to freedom, depended on another 
department of the government. He promised, how- 
ever, to v/rite to the man who held her, and solicit her 
release. • 

The remonstrances of the Governor of North Caro- 
lina proved successful. Mary Smith soon arrived in 
Boston. And some of her old acquaintances who 
had given the evidence which led to her release, has- 
tened to meet her and congratulate her on her escape 
from bondage. At the meeting they looked on her 
for some moments with astonishment, for they could 
trace in her features no resemblance to their former 
companion. A speedy explanation took place, from 
which it appeared that all the documents sent to 
North Carolina related to one Mary Smith ; but the 
woman whose liberty they procured, was another 
Mary SmitL 


Maey Smith. 

Governor Everett liad a hearty laugh when Father 
Snowden told him the happy result of his letter to the 
Governor, of North Carolina. 

The moral of this story is, that a plain, common 
name, is sometimes more useful to its owner, than a 
more brilhant one. 

xsOTE. — I "have endeavored to give the facts of Mary Smith's story 
with exact accuracy, writing from memory only, without the aid of 
anything written. It is possible I may be mistaken in some imma- 
terial circumstance. 

iREEDOM and Liberty are synonymes. Freedom 

is an essence; Liberty, an accident. Freedom 
is born with a man ; Liberty may be conferred on him. 
Freedom is progressive ; Liberty is circumscribed. 
Freedom is the gift of God ; Liberty, the creature of 

but, on whatsoever soul Freedom may alight, the course 
of that soul is thenceforth onward and upward ; so- 
ciety, customs, laws, armies, are but as wythes in its 
giant grasp, if they oppose, instruments to work its 
will, if they assent. Human kind welcome the birth 
of a free soul with reverence and shoutings, rejoicing 
in the advent of a fresh off-shoot of the Divine Whole, 
of which this is but a part. 

society. Liberty may be taken away from a man ; 


Ks\\'-YoB£, Kov. 22 J, 1S^3. 


OU want my autograph. Permit me, then, to sign 

myself the friend of every effort for human eman- 
cipation in our 'own country, and throughout the 
world. God speed the day when all chains shall fall 
from the limbs and from the soul, and universal lib- 
erty co-exist with universal righteousness and univer- 
sal peace. In this work I am 

Yours truly, 

New York, Nov. 22(1. 

C|e Sijhuj ^olilopg; of tfje Victim at 

" ^^^^ approaclied from beliind by Deputy Mar- 
sTial Wyncoop and his assistants, knocked down 
witli a mace and partially shackled. The fugitive, 
who had unsuspectingly waited upon them during 
their breakfast at the Phenix Hotel, was a tall, noble- 
looking, remarkably intelligent, and a nearly white 
mulatto ; after a desperate effort and severe struggle, 
he shook off his Jive assailants, and with the loss of 
everything but a remnant of his shirt, rushed from 
the house and plunged into the water, exclaiming: I 
will drown rather than be taken alive." He was pur- 
sued and fired upon several times, the last ball taking 
effect in his head, bis face being instantly covered 
with blood. He sprang up and shrieked in great 
agony, and no doubt would have sunk at once, but 


A DYiKa Soliloquy. 

for tlie buoyancy of tlie ^ater. Seeing his condition, 
tlie slave-catcliers retreated, coolly remarking tliat 
dead niggers were not worth, taking South." 

Than be a slave. 

Dread death I'll brave, 
And hail the moment near, 

When the soul mid pain, 

Shall burst the chain 
That long has bound it here. 

Earth's thrilling pulse, 

Man's stern repulse, 
This weary heart no longer feels ; 

Its beating hushed 

Its vain hopes crushed. 
It craves that life which. death reveals. 

That moment great 

My soul would wait. 
In awe and peace sublime ; 

Nor bitter tears, 

Nor slave-born fears. 
As I pass from earth to time. 

Dying Soliloquy. 

The angry past, 

Like phantoms vast, 
Glides by like the rushing wave ; 

So soon shall I, 

Forgotten lie, 
In the depths of my briny grave. 

The time shall be, 
" When no more sea" 

Shall hide its treasures lone ; 
Then my soul shall rise, 
Clothed for the skies, 

To find its blissful home. 

Foul deeds laid wrong 
The whip and thong, 

Have scored my manhood's heart, 
But ne'er again 
Shall fiends constrain 

My body to the slave's vile mart. 

The 'whelming wave, 
This corpse shall lave ; 
Let the winds still pipe aloud, 

A Dying Soliloquy. 

Let tlie waters lasli, 
The wliite foam dasli, 
O'er my mangled brow and bloody shroud. 

Eoll on, tlion free, 

Unfettered sea, 
Thy restless moan, my dirge, 

My cradle deep 

In my last lone sleep, 
Is the scoop of thy hollow surge. 

"Would I might live. 

One glance to give, 
To those whose hearts would bless, 

Each word of love, 

All price above. 
As mine to theirs 1 press. 

The wish is vain ; 

My frenzied brain, 
Is darkening even now ; 

Above, above. 

Is Heaven's love, 
And mercy's wide arched bow. 

A Dyin'G Soliloquy. 

Glad jfree-born soul 

With grateful hold, 
Now grasp the gift from Heav'n — 

Thy freedom won, 

New life begun. 
Forgive, thou'rt there forgiv'n. 

S^ft nil be free. 

UxBOUXDED in tLv expanse — far reacLing 

From shore to shore — ever beautiful 

Are thy crystal waters — sea. 

Beautiful — when thy waves, the white pebbles lave, 

When the weary sea-birds sleep, uron the bosom of 

the deep. . - 

But when thy storm-pressed billows burst, 
The grasp which man would "lay upon thy mane,'* 
Then do I most love thee, sea, 
Thou emblem of the Free. 

When above me beam the stars, 

How beautiful in their infinitude of light, 

O'er the blue heavens spread, like gems 

Upon the brow of youth ! 

Far, far away, beyond the paths of day, 

Let all be Free. 


More glorious yet, as suns wliicli never set, 
In darkness never ! but shining forever 1 
You are more loved by me — 
Ye emblems of the Free. 

All earth of the beautiful is full. 
Beautiful the streams which leave the rural vales, 
Fiinged with scarlet berries and leafy green! 
world of colors infinite, and lines of ever- varying 

How by sea and shore art thou ever beautiful ! 
But the torrent rushing by, and the eagle in the sky, 
The Alpine heights of snow where man does never go. 
More lovely are to me. 
For they are Free, 

Beautiful is man, and yet more beautiful 

Woman : coupled by bare circumstance 

Of place or gold, still beautiful. 

But this must fade I 

Only the soul, grows never old : 

They most agree, who most are free : 

liberty ia the food of love I 

2o0 Let all be Free. 

The heavens, the earth, man's heart, and sea, 
Forever cry, let all be Free I 

Kentucky, 1853. 

To the Editor of the Autographs for Freedom'^ 

Dear Madam, — 

If the enclosed paragraph from a speech of mine delivered in 
May la^t. at the anniversary meetinor of the American and Foreiga 
Anti-Slavery Society, shc41 be deemed suited to the pages of the forth- 
coming annual, please accept it as my contribution. 

With great respect, 

Rochester, November, 1853. 

j^O colored man, with any nervous sensibility, can 
stand before an American audience without an in- 
tense and painful sense of the disadvantages imposed 
by his color. He feels little borne up by that 
brotherly sympathy and generous enthusiasm, which 
give wings to the eloquence, and strength to the 
hearts of other* men, who advocate other and more 
popular causes. The ground which a colored man 
occupies in this country is, every inch of it, sternly 



disputed. Sir, were I a white man, speaking for tlie 
right of white men, I should in this country have a 
smooth sea and a fair wind. It is, perhaps, creditable 
to the American people (and I am not the man to de- 
tract from their credit) that they listen eagerly to the 
report of wrongs endured by distant nations. The 
Hungarian, the Itahan, the Irishman, the Jew and the 
Gentile, all find in this goodly land a home ; and 
when any of them, or all of them, desire to speak, 
they find willing ears, warm hearts, and open hands. 
For these people, the Americans have principles of 
justice, maxims of mercy, sentiments of religion, and 
feelings of brotherhood in abundance. But for my 
poor people, (alas, how poor !) — enslaved, scourged, 
blasted, overwhelmed, and ruined, it would appear 
that America had neither justice, mercy, nor religion. 
She has no scales in which to weigh our wrongs, and 
no standard by which to measure our rights. Just 
here lies the grand difficulty of the colored man's 
cause. It is found in the fact, that we may not avail 
ourselves of the just force of admitted American prin- 
ciples. If I do not misinterpret the feehngs and phil- 
osophy of my white fellow-countrymen generally, they 
wish us to understand distinctly and fully that they 



have no other use for us whatever, than to coin dol- 
lars out of our blood. 

Our position here is anomalous, unequal, and extra- 
ordinary. It is a position to which the most courage- 
ous of our race cannot look without deep concern. 
Sir, we are a hopeful people, and in this we are for- 
tunate ; but for this trait of our character, we should 
have, long before this seemingly unpropitious hour, 
sunk down under a sense of utter despair. 

Look at it, sir. Here, upon the soil of our birth, in 
a country which has known us for two centuries, 
among a people who did not wait for us to seek them, 
but who sought us, found us, and brought us to their 
own chosen land, — a people for whom we have per- 
formed the humblest services, and whose greatest com- 
forts and luxuries have been won from the soil by our 
sable and sinewy arms, — I say, sir, among such a 
people, and with such obvious recommendations to 
favor, we are far less esteemed than the veriest 
stranger and sojourner. 

Aliens are we in our native land. The fundamental 
principles of the republic, to which the humblest white 
man, whether born here or elsewhere, may appeal 
with confidence in the hope of awakening a favorable 



response, are held to be inapplicable to ns. The 
glorious doctrines of your revolutionary fathers, and 
the more glorious teachings of the Son of God, are 
construed and applied against us. "We are literally 
scourged beyond the beneficent range of both authori- 
ties, — human and divine. We plead for our rights, in 
the name of the immortal declaration of independence, 
and of the written constitution of government, and we 
are answered with imprecations and curses. In the 
sacred name of Jesus we beg for mercy, and the slave- 
whip, red with blood, cracks over us in mockery. We 
invoke the aid of the ministers of Him who came ^' to 
preach dehverance to the captive," and to set at lib- 
ertj^ them that are bound, and from the loftiest sum- 
mits of this ministry comes the inhuman and blasphem- 
ous response, saj^ing: if one prayer would move the 
Almighty arm in mcrcj^ to break your galling chains, 
that prayer would be withheld. We cry for help to 
humanity — a common humanity, and here too we are 
repulsed. American humanity hates us, scorns us, 
disowns and denies, in a thousand ways, our very per- 
sonality. The outspread wing of American Christian- 
ity, apparently broad enough to give shelter to a 
perishing world, refuses to cover us. To us, its bones 



are brass, and its feathers iron. In running tliitTier 
for shelter and succor, we have only fled from the 
hungry bloodhound to the devouring wolf, — from a 
corrupt and selfish world to a hollow and hypocritical 
church. ^ 


(Attract from an ttiijjttblisljcir |focm on 

Oh, Freedom ! wlieii tliy morning, march began, 
Coeval Avith the birth and breath of man ; 
"Who that could view thee in that Asian clime, 
God-born, soul-nursed, the infant heir of time — 
Who that could see thee in that Asian court, 
Flit with the sparrow, with the lion sport, 
Talk with the murmur of the babbling rill 
And sing thy summer song upon the hill — 
Who that could know thee as thou wast inwrought 
The all in all of nature's primal thought, 
And see thee given by Omniscient mind, 
A native boon to lord, and brute, and wind, 
Could e'er have dreamed with fate's prophetic sleep, 
The darker lines thy horoscope would keep, 
* Or trembling read, thro' tones with horror thrilled, 
The damned deeds thy future name would gild ? 

02T Freedom. 


Lo I The swart chief of Afric's vergeless plains, 
Poor Heaven-wept child of nature's joys and pains. 
Mounts his fleet steed with wind-directed course, 
Nor checks again his free unbridled horse. 
But lordless, wanders wher^e his will inclines 
From Tuats heats to Zegzeg's stunted pines I 
View him, ye craven few, ye living-dead ! 
Wrecks of a being whence the soul has fled I * 
Yq Goths and Vandals of his plundered coast ! 
Ye christian Bondous, Avho of feeling boast,* 
Who quickly kindling to historic fire 
Contemn a Marius' or a Scvlla's ire,f 

^ " Ye Christian Bondous \7\\'j of feeling boast I" 

Unable in tlie whole range of my vernacnlar, to find an epithet 
sufficiently expressive to enunciate the aggravated contempt which all 
feel for thai pseudonymous class of philanthropists, who flauntingly 
parade a pompous sympathy with popular and distant distresses, but 
studiously cultivate a coarse ignorance of, and hauteur to, the Greeks, 
which " are at the door," I have had recource to the Metonymy, Bondou, 
as' rendered mournfully significant through the melancholy fate of 
the illustrious Houghton. — Vide Report African Discovery Society. 

\ " Contemn a ISIarius' or a Scylla's ire." 

Napoleon in his protest to Lord Bathurst, provoked by the petty 
tyranny of Sir Hudson Lowe, said of the *' Proscriptions," and (by nega- 
tive inference) in extenuation of them, that they ''were made with the 
blood yet fresh upon the sword'' A sentence, which, falling from ihe lips 
of one of the most impertui'bably cool and calculating of mankind, un- 
dei- circumstances superinducing peculiar reflection on every word 
uttered, cannot but coma with the force of a wliole vxilume of excoj^iflr 


Ox Fkeedom. 

Or kindly lulled to sympathetic glo^, 

Lament tlie martyrs of some far-oif woe, 

And tender grown, with sorrow hugely great, ^ 

"Weep o^er an Agis' or Jugurtha's fate ! ^ 

Yiew him, ye hollow heartlings as he stalks 

The dauntless monarch of his native walks 

Breathes the warm odor which the girgir bears,f 

live evidence against tlie demoralization of war, even upon tbe most 
abstracted and elevated natures. — Vide Letters of JJontkolon and Las 

* " Weep o'er an Agis' or Jugurtha's fate." 
Agis, King of Lacedemon and colleague of Leonidas, was a youth of 
singular purity and promise. Aiming to correct the abuses which had 
crept into the Spartan polity, he introduced regenerative laws. 
Among others, one for the equalization of property, and :is an exam- 
ple of disinterested liberality, s!)ared his estate with the community. 
Unappreciated by the degenerated Senate however, he wa^ deposed, 
and, with his whole family, strangled by order of the ingrare State. — 
Edin. En eye. 

It is said that when Jugurtha was led before the car of the con- 
querer, he lost his senses. After the triumph he was thrown into 
prison, where, whilst they were in haste to strip him, some tore his 
robes off his back, and others, catching eagerly at his pendants, pulled 
off the tips of his ears with them. When he was thrust down naked 
into the dungeon, all wild and confused, he said, with a frantic smile, 
*' Heavens I how cold is this bath of youi*3 I" There strug^;ling for six 
days with starvation, and to the last hour laboring for the preserva- 
tion of his life, he came to his end.— P/^./^. Cal. JIar, 

f "Breathes the warm odor which the girgir bears." 

The girgir, or the geshe el aube, a species of flowering grass. 
Piercing, fragrant, and grateful in its odor, it operates not unlike 
a mild stimulant, when respired for any length of time, and is 
found chiefly near the borders of sraaU streams and in the vicinage 
cf the Tassada. — Lr/n, Guu and Sottd 

Ok Freedom. 259 

Shouts tlie fierce music of liis savage airs, 
Or madly brave in hottest cliase pursues 
The tawny monster of the desert dews ; 
Eager, erect, persistent as the storm. 
Soul in his mien, God's image in his form ! 
Yes, view him thus, from Kaffir to Soudan, 
And tell me, worldlings, is the black a man ? 

See, the full sun emerging from the deep, 
Climbs with red eye, the light-illumined steep, 
■ And brightl^ beautiful continuous smiles 
A fecund blessing on those Indian Isles ! 
Like eastern woods vvhich sweeten as they burn. 
So, the parched earths to odorous flowrets turn, 
And feathered fayes their murmurous wdngs expand, 
Waked by the magic of his conjuror's wand, 
Flast their red plumes, and vocalize each dell 
"Where browse the fecho and the dun-gazelle,* 

* " "Where browse the fecho and the dun-gazelle." 

Among the wild animals are prodigious numbers of the vari- 
colored species of the gazelle, the bohur sassa, fecho, and mado- 
qua. They are extremely numerous in the provinces depopulated 
hy war and slavery, enjoying the wild oats of the deserted hamlets 
without fear of molestation from a returning population. — Notes on 
Central Afrim, 



While half forgetful of her changing sphere, 

The loathful summer lingers yeax by year. 

Here, in the light of God's supernal eye — 

His realms unbounded, and his woe's a sigh — 

The dusk}^ son of evening placed whileome 

Found with the Gnu an ever-yernal home, 

And wiser than Athenas' wisest schools," 

iS« or led by zealots, nor scholastic rule?, 

Gazed at the stars that stud yon tender blue. 

And hoped, and deemed the cheat of death untrue ; 

* "And Tiriser than Atlienas' wisest schools, 
Kor led hj zealots, nor scholastic rules, 
Gazod at the stars which stud yon tender blue, 
And hoped and deemed the cheat of death untrue." 

Though Socrates and Plato, particularly the former, are generally 
admitted by writers of authority, among whom, indeed, are 
Polycarpe, Chrysotom, and Eusebius, to have in a manner sws- 
pected rather than believed, the immortality of the soul ; yet we 
have no evidence of their ever having, by the finest process of 
ratiocination, so thoroughly convinced themselves as to introduce 
it generally as a tenable thesis on the portico. A beautiful thread 
of implicit belief and fervent hope, of after life, assimilating to the 
hunting-ground of our own American Indians, and though sensuous 
-till, a step far in advance of the black void of ancient philosophy, 
has always run through the higher mythologies of the 2segro. So 
notorious, indeed, was the fact among early Christians, that that 
ubiquitous riddle, "Prestor John," was, by believers, regarded as 
naving a locale in Central Africa ; while Henry of Portugal actu- 
ally despatched two ambassadors, Corvilla and Payvan, to a 
rumored Christian coart, south of the Sahara. — Udin, Encyc, Early 
qjiris. Mis. Fort 

On Fkeedom. 


Yet, supple sopliist to a T)lastic mind"'^ 
Saw gods in woods, and spirits in tlic wind, 
Heard in the tones that stirred the waves within, 
The mingled voice of Pladha and Odin, 
Doomed the fleeced tenant of the wild to bleed 
A guileless votive to his harmless creed, 
Then gladly grateful at each rite fulfilled, 
Songht the cool shadoAV where the spring distilled, 
And lightlj lab'rons thro' the torpid day, 
Whiled in sweet peace the snlfcry eve away. 

Or if perchance to nature darkly true, 
He strikes the Vv^ar-path- thro' the midnight dew, 
Steals in the covert on the sleeping foe. 
And Vv' reaks the horrors of a barbarous v^oe; 
Yet, yet returning to the home-girt spot — 

* " Yet supple sopliist to a plastic mind, 

Sees gods in woods, and spirits in tlie wind." 

Tlie imagination of tlie African, like liis musical genius, wliicli 
extracts surprising harmony from the rudest of sources, the clapping 
of hands, the clanking of chains, the resonance of lasso wood, and 
perforated shells, seems to invest everything with a resident Spirit 
of peculiar power. Accordingly, his mythologies are most numerous 
and poetical — his entire catalogue of superior gods alone, embrac- 
ing a more extended length, than the Assyro-Babylon Alphabet, 
with its throe h'nia:'<'d btters. 


Ox Feeedo:^!. 

The yengeful causes and tlie deed forgot — * 
Where greenest bonghs o'er sloping banks impend, 
And gTirghng waves to bosky dells descend ; 
Intent the long expectant brood to sea, 
He halts beneath the broad acacia tree ; 
ind warmly pressed by wonder-gloating eyes, 
Displays the vantage of each savage prize ; 
Stills with glad pride and plundered gems, uncouth, 
The ardent longings of his daughter's youth ; 

Bids the dark spouse the tropic meal prepare. 
Mid laughing echoes from the bird-voiced air; 
Passes before him in a fond review 
The merry numbers of his crisp-haired crew ;f 

* " The vengeful causes and the deed forgot." 

All travellers agree in the facile ductility and inertia-like amia- 
bility of the native African character. — Brewster on Africa. 

f The merry numbers of his crisp-haired crew." 

The negro race is, perhaps, the most prolific of all the human 
species. Their infancy and youth are singularly happy. The 
parents are passionately fond of their children. — Goldbury's 

"Strike me," said my attendant, *'but do not curse my mother." 
The sarme sentiment I found universally to prevail. 

Some of the first lessons in which the Mandings women instruct 
their children is the practice of truth. It was the only consolation 
for a negro mother, whose son had been murdered by the Moors-, 
that ''the hoy had never told a lie'' — Paee's Travels 

Ox Freedom. 263 

Recounts tlie dangers of the last night's strife, 
Joys Avitli their joj, and lives their inner hfe ; 
And then when slow the lengthened day expires, 
Mid tvrilight balms and star-enkindled fires. 
With all the father sees each form retire, 
A ruthless heathen, but a loving sire.*" 

Innocuously thus, thro' long, long years 
Untaught by learning, yet unknown to fears, 
The swarthy Afric while 1 the jocund hours, 
A petted child of nature's rosiest bowers, 
Till lured by wealth the hardy Portuguese,f 
. Seeks the green waters of his Eastern seas. . 

* " "With aU the father sees each form retire, 
A ruthless heathen, but a loving sire." 

" Or led the combat, bold \rithout a plan, 
An artless savage, but a fearless man." 


f " Till lured by wealth the hardy Portuguese, 
Sought the green waters of his Eastern seas. 
And venturous nations more excursive grown, 
Pierced his glad coast from radiant zone to zone." 

Yasquez de Gama, a Portuguese nobleman, was the first to dis- 
cover a maritime passage to the Indies; unless, perhaps, we credit 
the improbable achievement of the Phoenicians, related by Herocjo- 
tus as occurring, 604 B.C. 

De Gama. doubled the cape in 1498, explored the eastern shores as 
far as Melinda, in Zanguebar, and sailing thence arrived at Calcutta 
in May. This expedition, second to none in its results, save that of 


0^' Feeebom. 

And venturous nations more excursive grown, 

Scan his glad coast from radiant zone to zone. 

Then Fortune's minion in a foreim clime, 

Cui^sed by his own and damned to later time, 

Of incest born and by the chances thrown 

A tainted alien on a ravished throne, 

Gapes the foul flatteries of a favrning train. 

And fatuous mock'ries, which themselves disdain, 

A fancied monarch, but the witless sport 

Of adulation, and a practiced court, 

Taunts to his broad realms and Timour-like proclaims 

Illusive titles of barbaric names, 

Cheats his ovrn nature, and novv' generous grov, 

Columbus six years before, drew the attention of all Europe. Whole 
nations became actuated by the same enthusiasm, and private com- 
panies of merchants sent out whole fleets on voyages of discovery, 
scouring the entire coast from Cape Yerd to Gaudfui, and discover- 
ing the Mascharenhas and most of the islands of the Ethiopen 

* " Cheats his own nature and now generous grown. 
Dispenses realms and empires not his own." 

Charles T. granted a patent io one of hi!^ Flemish favorites, con- 
toiningan exclusive right to import four thousand negroes! — Uist. 

The crime of liavinsr^/TrSv' recommended tlie importation of African 
slaves into America, is due to the Flemish nobiliti/, who obtained a 
monopoly of four thousand negroes, which they sold to some Ge- 
noese merchants for 25,000 ducats. — Life of Cardinal Ximencs. 

They (the Gem>ese) were the first to bring into a regular form. 

OinT Freedo]\i. 205 

Dispenses souls and empires not his own, 
Draws the deep purple round his royal seaf, 
Lifts his low crest, affects the God complete. 
By giving with light breath, oh, shame to tell ! 
These heirs of Heav'n unto the fate of hell. 
Sp^d by the mandate of his recreant train, 
Lo ! c(^imerce, broad winged seraph of the main ! 
Shook hler white plumage and coqueting, won 
Propitious favors from the southern sun, 
Till jnanly hearts and keel-impelling gales, 
Furled on the coast her half-reluctant sails. 

Abashed, amazed, with fear-dilated eye 
The marvelling tribes these new-born wonders spy ; 
See from the shore, bright glittering in the sun, 
The moving freightage of each galleon ; 
Wait till the measured strokes of oars bring near 
These way-lost wanderers of another sphere, 
Then timorously glad, 3'et awe-struck still. 
Lead from the sunshine to the breezy hill ; 
"With courteous grace a resting place, assign 
'Xeath rustling leaves and grape-empurpled vine, 

that commerce for slaves, between Africa and America, wliicli has 
aince grown to such an amazing extent. — Robertson. 



Ox Freebo:^:. 

And led by craft in artless pride make known 
The lustrous lurements of their gorgeous zone, 
As in the field some skilful ranger sets 
The fraudful cordage of his specious nets, 
Places some frasrrant viand in the snare, 
And captive takes the unsuspicious hare ; 
So the bold strangers Tvith superior vill 
Lay their base plans with disingenuous skill, 
Ope their stored treasures and with art display 
Their worthless figments to the air of day, 
Eoll their large lids, and with grave gestures laud 
Each tinsel trinket and each painted gaud ; 
With mystic signs of strange import apply 
Some gew-gaw bauble to the gloating eye ; 
Touch with nice skill, yet craft-dissembled smile, 
Gems from the mine and spices from the Isle, 
AJTect no care, yet hope a thrifty sale — 
The wealth of Emjiires in th' opposing scale — 
While he, the poor victim of their selfish creed. 
Prescient of evil art foredoomed to bleed, 
Pleas :d yet alarmed, desiring but deterred, 
Flutters still nearer like a snake-charmed bird ; 
Alas, too often taken with a toy — 
Too soon to weep a kindred fate with Troy I 

On Freedom. 


Evils received, like twilight stars dilate, 
The less the light, the larger grows their state ; 
Thus the first error in that savage air, 
Spreads as a flame, and leaves a ruin there. 
Too dearly generous and too warmly true,* 
The simple black wears out the fatal clew, — 
From barter flies to trade 5 from trade to wants ; 
From wants to interests and derided haunts ; 
Thence, rolls from off the once-sequestered shore, 
The turgid tide of havoc and of w^ar ; 
No warning ringing from the red adunes, 
ISTo prophets rising, and no Laocoons, 
Eemotest tribes the baleful influence own ; 
Feel to extremes, and at their centres groan. 
Now laughs the stranger at their anguished throes,f 
Feeds on their ills, and battens on their woes ; 

* " Too warmly generous and dearly true, 
The simple black," &c. 

It will remain an indelible reproach on the name of Europeans, 
that for more than three centuries their intercourse with the 
Africans has only tended to destroy their happiness and debase 
their character. — £^din. Ency. 

\ " Now laughs the stranger at their anguished throes." 

The arts of the slave-merchant have inflamed the hostility of 
their various tribes, and heightened their ferocity by sedulously ia- 
cre.asing their wars. — Jhid, 


Ok Freedom. 

Glads his freed conscience at eacli pillaged mine, 

And finds forgiveness at a Christian shrine ; 

By sjDecious creeds and sophists darkl}^ taught/^* 

To semble virtue and dissemble thought, 

With Saviour-seeming smile, adds fuel to the flame, — 

Ulj'sses' craft, without Ulysses' aim, — ■ 

And sadly faithful to his dark designs, 

Fiction improves ; heroic rage refines ; 

For lo ! Achilles, victor of the train ! 

Draws Hector lifeless, round the Ilian plain ; 

But ah ! these later Greeks more cruel strive, 

And bind, their victim to the load alive ! 

Oh, beats there. Heaven, beneath thy gorgeous blue, 
One heart so basely to itself untrue. 
So dead of pulse, and so insensate grown. 
It feels not such a cause dear as its own ? 

* " Bj specious creeds and sophists darldy tauglit." 
Hamlet's advice to his offending mother ; — 

"Assume a virtue, tho' you have it not." 
Adding hypocrisy to avowed unworthiness, was the acknowledged 
injunction of the church, wherever and whenever she participated 
in secular affairs, with a view of emolument. For a peculiar illus- 
tration of this favorite doctrine, see Clement YI.'s edict, when, in 
virtue of the right arrogated by the holy see to dispose of all couniries 
belonging to the heathen, he erected (1344) the Canaries into a king- 
dom, and disposed of them to Lewis de la Corda, a prince of Castile. 

On Fee ED 31. 


" Dvrells there a being 'neatli tliine eje, oh, God ! 

A fellow-worm from out the self-same clod, 

Whose fevered blood does not impatient boil, 

Fierce as a tiger's in the hunter's toil, 

To see degenerate men and States prolong, 

So foul a deed — so thrice accursed a wrong ? 

Tell me, ve loud-voiced Vv^inds that ceaseless roll, 

Eternal miracles from loole to pole, 

Breathes there on earth so vile and inean a thing 

That crushed, it will not turn again and sting? 

And ssLj ! ye tyrants in your boasted halls, 

Eead je no warnings on your darkened walls ? 

Hear ye no seeming mutterings of the cloud 

Break from the millions which your steps have bowed ? 

Think ye, ye hold in your ignoble thrall, 

Mind, soul, thought, taste, hope, feeling, valor, all? 

No ; these unfettered scorn your nerveless hand. 

Sport at their will, and scoff at jomt command, 

Eange through arcades of shadow-brooding palms. 

Snuff their free airs and breathe their floating balms. 

Or bolder still, on fancy's fiery wung — 

* " Or bolder still on fancy's fiery Tving." 
That I do not exaggerate tlie belle lettres and classical accomplish- 
ments of at least two of the "chattels" of the " peculiar institu- 
tion," in the lines following the above, see "Poems written by 
Rofia aud Maria^" property of South Caroliaa, and published in 1834, 


Ok Feeedom. 

Caught from their letters at the noon-day spring — 
With star-eyed science, and her seraph train 
Eead the bright secrets of yon azure plain ; 
Hear Loxian murmurs in Ehodolphe's caves"^ 
Meet with sweet answers from the nymph-voicea 
waves ; 

Sit mth the pilot at Phoenicia's helm, 
And mark the boundries of the Lybian realm ; 
See swarthy Memnon in the grave debate. 
Dispute with gods, and rule a conqu'ring state. 
And warmly and kindling dare — ^yes, dare to hope, 
A second Empire on the future's scope ! 

And thou, my country, latest born of time ! 
Dearest of all, of all the most sublime ! 
How long shall patriots own, with blush of shame, 
So foul a blot upon so fair a name ? 
How long thy sons with filial hearts deplore, 
A Python evil on thy Cjrprean shore ? 

* " Hear Loxian murmurs in Ilodolphe's caves." 

Loxian is a name frequently given to Apollo by Greek "writera 
and is met with, more than once, in the *' Chcephorse of Eschylus." 
— Campbell. 

Euripides mentions it three times, and Sophocles twice, its 
euphony recommends it more than any other name of the fair- 
hair^ god. 

OiT Feeedom. 


What ! and wilt thou, the moral Hercules 

Whose youth eclipsed the dream of Pericles, 

Whose trunceant bands heroically caught, 

The Spartan phalanx with the Attic thought, 

The wizard throne of age- nursed error hurled, 

Defied a tyrant and transfixed a world ! 

Wilt thou see Afric like old Priam sue. 

The bones of children as in nature due. 

And foully craven, ingrate-like forget. 

Thy life, thy learning's her dishonored debt ? 

Say ; wilt not thou^ whose time-ennobling sons- — 

Thy Jay's, thy Franklin's and thy Washington's, 

Caught the bright cestus from fair freedom's God, 

And bound it as a girdle to thy sod ; 

Ah ! wilt not thou with generous mind confess 

The might of woe, the strength of helplessness ? 

High-Heaven's almoner to a world oppressed. 

Who in the march of nations led the rest ! ^ 

V/ill there no Gracchus in thy Senate stand 

And speak the words that millions should command ? 

No Clysthementhe 'neath thy broad arched dome, 

Predict the fortunes with the crimes of Eome ? 

* " And, in the march of nations led the van." 



On Feeedom. 

Shall time jet partial in Ms cj'-cling course, 

Bring tLee no Fox, no Pitt, no Wilberforce ? 

Still must tliou live and corj'bantic die, 

A tracelcss meteor in a clouding skj] 

Thy name a cheat ; thyself, a world-wide lie? 

No ; there will come, prophetic hearts may trust, 

Some embrj'o angel of superior dust. 

With brow of cloud and tongue of livid flame — 

Another Moses, but in time and name — ■ 

Yv^hose Heaven -apjoealing voice shall bid thee pass — 

On either hand a wall of living glass ; — 

Ope for the Lybian ydih convulsive shock 

His more than Horeb's adamantine rock, 

And gazing from some second Pisgah, see 

Thy idol broken and thy people free. 

Richmond, Dec. 1st, 185 3. 

Beookltn, December 6th, 1853. 


Your note of November 29t]i, requesting a 
line from me for the Autographs for Freedom, is re- 

I wish that I had something that would add to the 
literary value of your laudable enterprise. In so great 
a cause as that of human liberty, every great interest 
in society ought to have a voice and a decisive testi- 
mony. Art should be in sympathy with freedom and 
literature, and all human learning should speak with 
unmistakable accents for the elevation, evangelization, 
and liberation of the oppressed. In a future day, the 
historian cannot purge our political history from the 
shame of wanton and mercenary ojDpression. But 

there is not, I believe, a book in the literature of our 


274 A Lettee. 

country tliat will be alive and known a hundred years 
hence, in whicli can be found the taint of despotism. 
The literature of the world is on the side of liberty. 

I am very truly yours. 

%■ ictji B^twt at flajifortr fall 

JT was a pleasant morning in May, — I believe that is 
the orthodox Vv^ay of beginning a story, — when C. 
and I took the cars to go into the country to Playford 
Hall. And what's Playford Hall ?" you say. And 
why did you go to see it As to what it is, here is 
a reasonablj^ good picture before you. As to why, it 
Y/as for many years the residence of Thomas Clarkson, 
and is now the residence of his venerable widow and 
her family. 

Playford Hall is considered, I think, the oldest of 
the fortified houses in England, and is, I am told, the 
only one that has water in the moat. The water 
which is seen girdling the wall in the picture, is the 
moat ; it surrounds the place entirely, leaving no 
access except across the bridge, which is here repre- 

278 A Day Spext at 

After crossing tliis bridgej you come into a green 
conrt-yard, filled Avith choice plants and flowering 
slirnbs, and carpeted with that thick, soft, velvet-like 
grass, which is to be found nowhere else in so perfect 
a state as in England. 

The water is fed by a perpetual spring, whose 
current is so sluggish as scarcely to be percepti- 
ble, but which yet has the vitality of a running 

It has a dark and glassy stillness of surface, only 
broken by the forms of the water j>lants, whose leaves 
float thickly over it. 

The walls of the moat are green with ancient moss, 
and from the crevices springs an abundant flowering 
vine, whose delicate leaves and brigiit yellow flowers 
in some places entirely mantled the stones with their 
graceful dra^iery. 

The picture I have given you represents only one 
side of the moat. The other side is grown up with 
dark and thick shrubbery and ancient trees, rising 
and embowering the whole place, adding to the retired 
and singular eCeet of the whole. The pLico is a 
specimen of a sort of thing which does not exist in 
America, It ii cne of those signific-ant landmarks 

Playford Hall. 


whicli unite the present witli the past, for which we 
must return to the country of our origin. 

Playford Hall is a thing peculiarly English, and 
Thomas Clarkson, for whose sake I visited it, was as 
peculiarly an Englishman, — a specimen of the very 
best kind of English mind and character, as this is of 
characteristic English architecture. 

"We Anglo-Saxons have won a hard name in the 
world. There are undoubtedly bad things w^hich are 
true about us. 

Taking our developments as a race, both in England 
and America, we may be justly called the Komans of 
the nineteenth century. We have been the race 
which has conquered, subdued, and broken in pieces, 
other weaker races, with little regard either to justice 
or mercy. With regard to benefits by us imparted to 
conquered nations, I think a better story, on the 
w^hole, can be made out for the Romans than for us. 
Witness the treatment of the Chinese, of the tribes of 
India, and of our own American Indians. 

But still there is an Anglo-Saxon blood, a vigorous 
sense of jiL^tice, as appears in our Habeas Corpus, our 
jury trials, and other features of Stato organization, 
and, when this is tempered in individuals, witli the 

280 A Day Spext at 

elements of gentleness and compassion^ and enforced 
by that energy and indomitable perseverance which 
are characteristic of the Anglo-Saxon mind, they form 
a style of philanthropists peculiarly ef&cient. In 
short, the Anglo-Saxon is efficient, in whatever he 
sets himself about, whether in crushing the weak, or 
lifting them up. 

Thomas Clarkson was born in a day when good, 
pious people, imported cargoes of slaves from Africa, 
as one of the regular Christianized modes of gaining 
a subsistence, and providing for them and their house- 
holds. It was a thing that everybody was doing, and 
everybody thought they had a right to do. It was 
supposed that aU the coffee, tea, and sugar in the 
world were dependent on stealing men, women, and 
children, and could be got no other way ; and as to 
consume coffee, sugar, rice, and rum, were evidently 
the chief ends of human existence, it followed that 
men, women, and children, must be stolen to the end 
of time. 

Some good people, when they now and then heard 
an appalhng story of the cruelties practiced in the 
slave ship, declared that it was really too bad, sympa- 
theticallj remarked, '*What a sorrowful world we 

PlayfordHall. 281 

live in," stirred their sugar into their tea, and went 
on as before, because, what was there to do — ^hadn't 
everybody always done it, and if they didn't do it, 
wouldn't somebody else ? 

It is true that for many years individuals, at differ- 
ent times, remonstrated, had written treatises, poems, 
stories, and movements had been made by some re- 
ligious ladies, particularly the Quakers, but the opposi- 
tion had amounted to nothing practically efl&cient. 

The attention of Clarkson was first turned to the 
subject by having it given out as the theme for a prize 
composition in his college class, he being at that time 
a sprightly young man, about twenty-four years of 
age. He'entered into the investigation with no other 
purpose than to see what he could make of it as a col- 
lege theme. 

He says of himself : "I had expected pleasure from 
the invention of arguments, from the arrangement of 
them, from the putting of them together, and from 
the thought, in the interim, that I was engaged in an 
innocent contest for literary honor, but all my pleas- 
ures were damped by the facts, which were now con- 
tinually before me. 

"It was but one gloomy sixbject from morning till • 


A Day Spent at 

night ; in tlie day time I was uneasy, in the night I 
had Httle rest, I sometimes never closed my eyelids 
for grief." 

It became not now so much a trial for academical 
reputation as to write a work which should be useful 
to Africa. It is not sui-prising that a work, ^\Titten 
under the force of such feelings, should have gained 
the prize, as it did'. Clarkson was summoned from 
London to Cambridge, to deliver his prize essay 
publicly. He says of himself, on returning back to 
London: ^'The subject of it almost wholly engrossed 
my thoughts. I became at times very seriously 
affected while on the road. I stopped my horse oc- 
casionally, dismounted, and walked. 

" I frequently tried to persuade mj^self that the con- 
tents of my essay could not be true, but the more 
I reflected on the authorities on which they were 
founded, the more I gave them credit. Coming in 
sight of Wade's Mill, in Hertfordshire, I sat down dis- 
consolate on the turf by the roadside, and held my 
horse. Here a thought came into my mind, that 
if the contents of the ess^j were true, it was time 
that somebodj' should see these calamities to an 

Playford Hall 


These reflections, as it appears, y^ere. put ofF for 
awhile, but returned again. 

This young and noble heart was of a kind that could 
not comfort itself so easily for a brother's sorrow as 
many do. 

He says of himself : In the course of the autumn 
of the same year, I walked frequently into the woods 
that I might think of the subject in solitude, and find 
relief to my mind there ; bat there the question still 
recurred, ^are these things true?' Still- the answer 
followed as instantaneously, ' they are still the result 
accompanied it, — surely some person should interfere. 
I began to envy those who had seats in Parliament, 
riches, and widely-extended connections, which would 
enable them to take up this cause. 

Finding scarcely any one, at the time, who thought 
of it, I was turned frequently to myself, but here 
many dilB&culties arose. It struck me, among others, 
that a young man only twenty-four years of age could 
not have that solid judgment, or that knowledge of 
men, manners, and things, which were requisite to 
qualify him to undertake a task of such magnitude 
and importance ; and with whom was I to unite ? I 
telieved, also, that it looked so much like one of the 


A Day Spekt at 

feigned labors of Hercules, that my -understanding 
would be suspected, if I proposed it." 

He however resolved to do something for the cause 
by translating his essay from Latin into English, en- 
larging and presenting it to the public. Immedi- 
ately on the publication of this essay, he discov- 
ered to his astonishment and delight, that he was 
not the only one who had been interested in this 

Being invited to the house of William Dillwyn, 
one of these friends to the cause, he says : " How sur- 
prised was I to learn, in the course of our conversa- 
tion, of the labors of Granville Sharp, of the writings 
of Eamsey, and of the controversy in which the latter 
was engaged, of all which I had hitherto known no- 
thing. How surprised was I to learn that William Dill- 
wyn had, himself, two years before, associated himself 
with five others for the purpose of enlightening the 
public mind on this great subject. 

*'How astonished was I to find, that a society had 
been formed in America for the same object. These 
thoughts almost overpowered me. My mind was 
overwhelmed by the thought, that I had been provi- 
dentially directed to this house ; the finger of Provi- 

Playford Hall. 


dence was beginning to be discernible, and tbat tbe 
day-star of African liberty was rising." 

After this be associated with many friends of the 
cause, and at last it became evident that in order to 
effect anything, he must sacrifice all other prospects in 
life, and devote himself exclusively to this work. 

He says, after mentioning reasons which prevented 
all his associates from doing this : " I could look, there- 
fore, to no person but myself ; and the question was, 
whether I was prepared to make the sacrifice. In fa- 
vor of the undertaking, I urged to myself that never 
was any cause, which had been taken up by man, in 
any country or in any age, so great and important ; 
that never was there one in which so much misery was 
heard to cry for redress ; that never was there one in 
which so much good could be done ; never one in 
which the duty of christian charity could be so ex- 
tensively exercised ; never one more worthj^ of the 
de^^tion of a whole life towards it; and that, if a 
man thought properly, he ought to rejoice to have been 
called into existence, if he were only permitted to be- 
come an instrument in forwarding it in any part of 
its progress. 

" Against these sentiments, on the other hand, I had 


A Day Spent at 

to urge that I had been designed for the church ; that 
I had already advanced as far as deacon's orders in it; 
that m J prospects there on account of my connections 
were then brilliant ; that, by appearing to desert my 
profession, my family would be dissatisfied, if not un- 
happy. These thoughts pressed upon me, and ren- 
dered the conflict difl&cult. 

But the sacrifice of my prospects staggered me, I own, 
the most. When the other objections which I have re- 
lated, occurred to me, my enthusiasm instantly, like a 
flash of lightning, consumed them ; but this stuck to 
me, and troubled me. I had ambition. I had a thirst 
after worldly interest and honors, and I could not ex- 
tinguish it at once. I was more than two hours in 
solitude under this painful conflict. At length I 
yielded, not because I saw any reasonable prospect of 
success in my new undertaking, for all cool-headed 
and cool-hearted men would have pronounced against 
it; but in obedience, I believe, to a higher Power. 
And I can say, that both on the moment of this reso- 
lution, and for some time afterwards, I had more sub* 
^lime and happy feelings than at any former period of 
my life." 

In order to show how this enterprise was looked 

Playford Hall. 


upon and talked of very commonly by the majority 
of men in these times, we will extract the following 
passage from BoswelFs Life of Johnson, in which 
Bozzy thus enters his solemn protest : " The wild and 
dangerous attempt, which has for some time been per- 
sisted in, to obtain an act of our Legislature, to abolish 
so very important and necessary a branch of commer- 
cial interest, must have been crushed at once' had not 
the insignificance of the zealots, who vainly took the 
lead in it, made the vast body of planters, merchants 
and others, whose immense properties are involved in 
that trade, reasonably enough suppose, that there 
could be no danger. The encouragement which the 
attempt has received, excites my wonder and indig- 
nation ; and though some men of superior abilities 
have supported it, whether from a love of temporary 
popularity, when prosperous ; or a love of general 
mischief, when desperate, my opinion is unshaken. 

*^ To abolish a statute which in all ages God has 
sanctioned, and man has continued, would not only be 
robbery to an innumerable class of our fellow-subjects, 
but it would be extreme cruelty to the African savages, 
a portion of whom it saves from massacre, or intolera- 
ble bondage in their own country, and introduces into 


A Day Spent at 

a mucli happier state of life ; especially now, when 
tlieir passage *to the West Indies, and their treatment 
there, is humanely regulated. To abolish this trade, 
would be to 

* shut the gates of mercy on mankind.* " 

One of the first steps of Clarkson and his associates, 
was- the** formation of a committee of twelve persons, 
for the collection and dissemination of evidence on 
the subject. 

The contest now began in earnest, a contest as sub- 
lime as any the world ever saw. 

The Abolition controversy more fully aroused the 
virtue, the talent, and the religion of the great English 
nation, than any other event or crisis which ever oc- 

Wilberforce was the leader of the question in Par- 
liament. The other members of the Anti-slavery 
Committee performed those labors which were neces- 
sary^ out of it. 

This labor consisted j)rincipally in the collection of 
evidence with regard to the traffic, and the presenta- 
tion of it before the public mind. In this labor 

Platford Hall. 


Clarkson was particularly engaged. The subject was 
hemmed in with the same difficulties that now beset 
the Anti-slavery cause in America. Those who knew 
most about it, were precisely those whose interest it 
was to prevent inquiry. An immense moneyed inter- 
est was arrayed against investigation, and was deter- 
mined to suppress the agitation of the subject. Owing 
to this powerful pressure, many who were in possess- 
ion of facts Avhich would bear upon this subject, re- 
fused to communicate them ; and often after a long 
and wearisome journey in search of an individual who 
could throw light upon the subject, Clarkson had the 
mortification to find his lips sealed by interest or 
timidity. As usual, the cause of oppression was de- 
fended by the most impudent lying; the slave-trade 
was asserted to be the latest revised edition of philan- 
thropy. It was said that the poor Afiican, the slave 
of miserable oppression in his own country, wa-; 
wafted by it to an asylum in a Christ'.an land ; that 
the middle passage was to the poor negro a perfect 
elysium, infinitely happier than anything he had ever 
known in his own countr3^ All this was said while 
manacles, and hand-cuffi, and thumb-screws, and in- 

stxuments to Ibrce open the mouth, were a re^'ular part 



A Day Spext at 

of the stock for a slave sliip, and were hanging in the 
shop windows of Liverpool for sale. 

For Clarkson's attention was first called to these 
things by observing them in the shop window, and on 
inquiring the use of one of them, the man informed 
him that many times negroes were sulky and tried to 
starve themselves to death, and this instrument was 
used to force open their jaws. 

Of Clarkson's labor in this investigation some idea 
may be gathered from his own words, when stating 
that for a season he was compelled to retire from the 
cause, he thus speaks. ^' As far as I myself was con- 
cerned, all exertion was then over. The nervous sys- 
tem was almost shattered to pieces. Both my memory 
and my hearing failed me. Sudden dizzinesses seized 
my head. A confused singing in the ear followed me 
wherever I went. On going to bed the very stairs 
seemed to dance up and down under me, so that, mis- 
placing my foot, I sometimes fell. Talking, too, if it 
continued but half an hour, exhausted me so that pro- 
fuse perspirations followed, and the same effect was 
produced even by an active exertion of the mind for 
the like time. 

These disorders had been brought on by degrees, in 

Playford Hall. 


consequence of tlie severe labors necessarily attached 
to the promotion of the cause. For seven years I had 
a correspondence to maintain with four hundred per- 
sons, with my own hand ; I had some book or other 
annually to write in behalf of the cause. In this time 
I had traveled more than thirty-five thousand miles in 
search of evidence, and a great part of these journeys 
in the night. All this time my mind had been on the 
stretch. It had been bent too to this one subject, for 
I had not even leisure to attend to my own concerns. 
The various instances of barbarity which had come 
successively to my knowledge within this period, had 
vexed, harrassed, and afflicted it. The wound which 
these had produced was rendered still deeper by those 
cruel disappointments before related, which arose from 
the reiterated refusals of persons to give their testi- 
mony, after I had traveled hundreds of miles in quest 
of them. But the severest stroke was that inflicted by 
the persecution, begun and pursued by persons inter- 
ested in the continuance of the trade, of such witness- 
es as had been examined against them ; and whom, 
on account of their dependent situation in life, it was 
most easy to oppress. As I had been the means of 
bringing these forward on these occasions^ they natur- 


A Day S?e:ct at 

ally came to mej when thus persecuted, as the author 
of their miseries and their ruin. From their suppli- 
cations and wants it woidd have been ungenerous and 
ungrateful to have fled. These different circumstanc- 
es, by acting together, had at length brought me into 
the situation just mentioned ; and I was therefore 
obliged, though very reluctantly, to be borne out of 
the field, where I had placed the great honor and glorj 
of my life." 

I may as well add here that a Mr. Whitbread, to 
whom Clarkson mentioned this latter cause of distress, 
generously offered to repair the pecuniary losses of all 
who had suffered in this cause. One anecdote ^411 be 
a specimen of the energy with which Clarkson pur- 
sued evidence. It had been very strenuously asserted 
and maintained that the subjects of the slave trade 
were only such unfortunates as had become prisoners 
of war, and who. if not carried out of the country in 
this manner, would be exposed to death or some more 
dreadful doom in their own country. This was one 
of those stories which nobody believed, and yet was 
particularly useful in the hands of the opposition, be- 
cause it was difficult legally to disprove it. It was 
perfectly well known that in very manj cases slavd- 

Playford Hall. 


traders made direct incursions into tlie countr}', kid- 
napped, and carried ofi the inhabitants of whole vil- 
lages, but the question was, how to establish it ? A 
gentleman whom Clarkson accidentally met on one of 
his journeys, informed hinx that he had been in corn- 
pan}^, about a year before, with a sailor, a very re- 
spectable looking young man, who had actually been 
engaged in one of these expeditions ; he had spent 
half an hour with liim at an inn ; he described his per- 
son, but knew nothing of his name or the place of his 
abode, all he knew was that he belonged to a ship of 
war in ordinary, but knew nothing of the port. Clark- 
sou determined that this man should be produced as a 
witness, and knew no better way than to go personally 
to all the ships in ordinary, until the individual was 
found. He actually visited every sea-port town, and 
boarded every ship, till in the very last port and on 
the very last ship which remained, the individual was 
found, and found to be possessed of just the facts and 
information which were necessary. By the labors of 
Clarkson and his cotemporaries an incredible excite- 
ment was produced throughout all England. The 
pictures and models of slave ships, accounts of the 
cruelties practised in the trade, were circulated witii 

A Day Spent at 

an industry whicli left not a man, woman, or cliild in 
England uninstracted. In disseminating information, 
and in awakening feeling and conscience, the women 
of England were particularly earnest, and labored 
witli that whole-hearted devotion which characterizes 
the sex. 

It seems that after the committee had published the 
facts, and sent them to every town in England, Clark- 
son followed them up by journeying to all the places, 
to see that they were read and attended to. Of the 
state of feeling at this time, Clarkson gives the follow- 
ing account : 

And first I may observe, that there was no town 
through which I passed, in which there was not some 
one individual who had left off the use of sugar. In 
the smaller towns there were from ten to fifty, by esti- 
mation, and in the larger, from two to five hundred, 
who made this sacrifice to virtue. These were of all 
ranks and parties. Eich and poor, churchmen and 
dissenters had adopted the measure. Even grocers 
had left off trading in the article in some places. In 
gentlemen's families, where the master had set the ex- 
ample, the servants had often voluntarily followed it ; 
and even children, who were capable of understanding 

Playford Hall. 


the history of the sufferings of the Africans, excluded 
with the most virtuous resolution the sweets, to which 
they had been accustomed, from their lips. By the 
best computation I was able to make, from notes taken 
down in my journey, no fewer than three hundred 
thousand persons had abandoned the use of sugar." 
It was the reality, depth, and earnestness of the public 
feeling, thus aroused, which pressed with resistless 
force upon the government ; for the government of 
England yields to popular demands, quite as readily 
as that of Amerija. 

After years of protracted struggle, the victory was 
at last won. The slave-trade was finally abolished 
through all the British empire ; and not only so, but 
the English nation committed, with the whole force 
of its national influence, to seek the abolition of the 
slave-trade in all the nations of the earth. But the 
wave of feeling did not rest there ; the investigations 
had brought before the English conscience the horrors 
and abominations of slavery itself, and the agitation 
never ceased till slavery was finally abolished through 
all the iit ibish provinces. At this time the r^-igiou? 
mind and conscience of England gained, through this 
very struggle, a power which it never has lost. The 


A Dat Spei^t at 

principle adopted by tliem was tlie same so suolimelj 
adopted by the cburcli in America, in reference to the 
Foreign Missionary cause : " The field is the world." 
They saw and felt that as the example and practice 
of England had been powerful in giving sanction to 
this evil, and particularly in introducing it into 
America, that there was the greatest reason why she 
should never intermit her efforts till the wrong was 
righted throughout the earth. 

Clui-kson to his last day never ceased to be interested 
in the subject, and took the warmest interest in all 
movements for the abolition of slavery in America. 

One of his friends, during my visit at this place, 
read me a manuscript leUer from him, written at a 
very advanced age, in which he speaks with the utmost 
ardor and enthusiasm of the first anti-slavery move- 
ments of Cassius Clay in Kentuck}^ The same friend 
described him to me as a cheerful, companionable 
being, — frank and simple-hearted, and with a good 
deal of quiet humor. 

It is remarkable of him that with such intense feel- 
ing for human suffering as he had, and worn down 
and exhausted as he was, by the dreadful miseries and 
sorrows with which he was constantly obliged to be 

Playfoed Hall. 


familiar, lie never yielded to a spirit of bitterness or 

The narrative whicli lie gives is as calm and unim- 
passioned, and as free from any trait of this kind, as 
the narrative of the evangelist. 

I have given this sketch of what Clarkson did, that 
you may better appreciate the feelings with which I 
visited the place. 

The old stone house, the moat, the draw -bridge, all 
spoke of daj's of violence long gone by, when no man 
was safe except within fortified walls, and every man's 
house literally had to be his castle. 

To me it was interesting as the dwelling of a con- 
queror, as one who had not wrestled with flesh and 
blood merely, but Avith principalities and powers, and 
the rulers of the darkness of this world, and who had 
overcome, as his great Master did before him, by 
faith, and praj' er, and labor. 

We were received with much cordiality by the 
widow of Clarkson, now in her eighty-fourth year. 
She has been a woman of great energy and vigor, and 
an efficient co-laborer in his plans of benevolence. 

She is now quite feeble. I was placed under the 

care of a respectable female servant, who forthwith 


A Day Spext at 

installed me in a large chamber overlooking the 
court-j'ard, which had been Clarkson's own room ; 
the room where for years, many of his most important 
labors had been conducted, and from whence his soul 
had ascended to the reward of the just. 

The servant who attended me seemed to be quite a 
superior woman ; like many of the servants in respec- 
table English families. She had grown up in the 
family, and was identified with it ; its ruling aims and 
purposes had become hers. She had been the per- 
sonal attendant of Clarkson, and his nurse during his 
last sickness ; she had evidently understood, and been 
interested in his plans, and the veneration with which 
she therefore spoke of him, had the sanction of intel- 
ligent appreciation. 

A daughter of Clarkson, vv'ho was married to a neigh- 
boring clergyman, with her husband, was also present 
on this day. 

After dinner we rode out to see the old church, in 
whose enclosure the remains of Clarkson repose. It 
vras just such a still, quiet, mossy old church, as you 
have read of in story-books, with the grave-yard 
spread all around it, like a thoughtful mother, who 
watches the resting of her children. 

Playford Hall. 


The grass in the yard was long and green, and the 
daisy, which in other places lies like a little button on 
the ground, here had a richer fringe of crimson, and 
a stalk about six inches high. It is, I well know, the 
vital influence from the slumbering dust beneath, 
which gives the richness to this grass and these flow- 
ers; but let not that be a painful thought; let it 
rather cheer us, that beauty should spring from ashes, 
and life smile brighter from the near presence of 
death. The grave of Clarkson was near the church, 
enclosed b}^ a railing and marked by a simple white 
marble slab ; it was carefully tended and planted with 
flowers. In the church was an old book of records, 
and among other curious inscriptions, was one record- 
ing how a pious committee of old Noll's army had 
been there, knocking off saints' noses, and otherwise 
purging the church from the relics of idolatry. 

Near by the church was the parsonage, the home 
of my friends, a neat, pleasant, sequestered dwelling, 
of about the style of a New England country par- 

The effect of the whole together was inexpressibly 
beautiful to me. For a wonder, it was a pleasant day, 
and tliis is a thing always to be tjjankfully acknowl- 


A Day Spe^^t at 

edged in England. The calm stillness of the after- 
noon, the seclusion of the whole place, the silence 
only broken by the cawing of the rooks, the ancient 
churchy the mossy graves with their flowers and green 
grass, the sunshine and 'the tree shadows, all seemed 
to mingle together in a kind of haz}^ dream of peace- 
fulness and rest. How natural it is to say of some 
place sheltered, simple, cool, and retired, here one 
might find peace, as if peace came from without, and 
not from within. In the shadiest arid stillest places 
may be the most turbulent hearts, and there are hearts 
which, through the busiest scenes, carry with them 
unchanging peace. As we were walking back, we 
passed many cottages of the poor. 

I noticed, with particular pleasure, the invariable 
flower garden attached to each. Some pansies in one 
of them attracted my attention by their peculiar 
beauty, so very large and richly colored. On being 
introduced to the owner of them, she, with cheerful 
alacrity, offered me some of the finest. I do not 
doubt of there being suffering and misery in the agri- 
cultural population of England, but still there are 
multitudes of cottages, which are really very pleasant 
objects, as were these. The cottagers had that 

Playford Hall. 301 

bright, rosy look of liealtli which we seldom see in 
America, and appeared to be both polite and self- 

In the evening we had quite a gathering of friends 
from the neighborhood — ^intelligent, sensible, earnest, 
people — who had grown up in the love of the anti- 
slavery cause as into religion. The subject of conver- 
sation was : The duty of English people to free 
themselves from any participation in American slavery, 
by taking means to encourage the production of free 
cotton in the British provinces. 

It is no more impossible or improbable that some- 
thing effective may be done in this way, than that the 
slave-trade should have been abolished. Every great 
movement seems an impossibility at first. There is no 
end to the number of things declared and proved im- 
possible, which have been done already, so that this 
may do something yet. 

Mrs. Clarkson had retired from the room early; 
after a while she sent for me to her sitting-room. The 
faithful attendant of whom I spoke was with her. 
She wished to show me some relics of her husband, 
his watch and seals, some of his papers and manu- 
scripts; among these was the identical prize essa^y 


A Day Spent at 

with wliicli lie began his career, and a commentary ou 
the Gospels, which he had written with great care, for 
the use of his grandson. His seal attracted my atten- 
tion — it was that kneeling figure, of the negro, with 
clasped hands, which was at first adopted as the badge 
of the cause, when every means was being made use 
of to arouse the public mind and keep the subject be- 
fore the attention. Mr. Wedgewood, the celebrated 
procelain manufacturer, designed a cameo, with this 
representation, which wts much worn as an ornament 
by ladies. It was engrayed on the seal of the Anti- 
Slavery Society, and was used by its members in seal- 
ing all their letters. This of Clarkson's was hand- 
somely engraved on a large, old-fashioned cornehan, 
and surely if we look with emotion on the sword of a 
departed hero, which, at best, we can consider only 
as a necessary evil, we may look with unmingled 
pleasure on this memorial of a bloodless victory. 

When I retired to my room for the night I could 
not but feel that the place was hallowed — unceasing 
prayer had there been offered for the enslaved and 
wronged race of Africa by that noble and brotherly 
heart. I could not but feel that that those prayers 
had had a wider reach than the mere extinction of 

Playford Hall. 


slavery in one land or country, and tliat their benign 
influence would not cease till not 'a slave was left upon 
the face of the earth. 

jl^UCH has been discussed and writteo, botli at the 
Nortli and South, concerning the policy and pro- 
priety of permitting those in bondage to gain the 
rudiments of a common education. 

Many who conscientiously (for having lived among 
them, I do believe that there are conscientious " 
slave-owners) hold their laborers in servitude, believe 
that the experiment might be successfully tried. In- 
deed, it is often tried on plantations, even in States 
where the law enforces strict penalties against it. 
They believe that the slaves, if permitted to learn to 
read, would be more moral, faithful and obedient ; and 
they cannot reconcile it with their sense of duty to 
keep from them the perusal of the Bible. 

The majority, however, think differently; and the 
majority will always make the laws. They believe 

Teaching the Slave to Head. S05 

that there is a talismanic power in even the alphabet 
of knowledge, to arouse in the bondsman powers 
which they would crush for even They believe that 
one truth leads on to another, and that the mind, once 
aroused to inquiry, will never rest until it has found 
out its native independence of man's dominion. They 
point triumphantly, in proof of the policy of their 
system, to the ^' spoiled slave," as they term many of 
those in whose training the opposite course has been 
pursued. More trouble, vexation, and insubordination, 
they confidently allege, has been caused by permitting 
slaves to leain to read, than by any other indulgence. 

It may be so ; it is certain that, in many instances, 
masters have failed to win the gratitude to which they 
thought themselves justly entitled, for their kindness 
and care. They have found their servants growing 
discontented and idle, where they hoped to make them 
docile and happy. Searching for the cause of this, 
they perhaps turn upon the course of training they 
have followed, and accuse it of being opposed to the 
best interests of the slave. Could such reasoners but 
look upon the matter in its true perspective, they 
Vv'ould cease to vv'onder that "good" should, in their 
view, "work out evil." Learning and JSlaver^ can 

806 Teaching the Slave to Eead. 

never compromise ; they are as the antagonistic poles 
of the magnet. 

In the first place, Slavery blunts the mind, and ren- 
ders it, in its early years, nnsnsceptible to those im- 
pressions which are generally so lasting, when made 
upon j^outhful minds. Many who have tried to edu- 
cate colored children, have been led to accuse the race 
of natural inferiority in its capacity to gain knowledge. 
We have no right to draw that inference from the few 
attempts which have been made on a part of the race 
whose mental faculties have, through many genera- 
tions, been crippled by disuse. 

I had once under my charge, for a short time, 
a negro girl, born in Africa — ^'Margru" of the 
^' Armistad," with whose history most are familiar. On 
her ancestory hung no clog of depression, except that 
of native wildness. There was no lack of aptitude 
to learn in her case. She astonished all by the ease 
with which she acquired knowledge, particularly in 
mathematical science. That a native heathen should 
be a better recipient of knowledge than one brought 
Tip in the midst of American civilization, speaks well 
for "the race," but ill for ^Hhe system," which has 
trained the latter. 

Teaching the Slave to Eead. 807 

Not only is this native dulness to be overcome, but 
tiyne for study is to be found — time enough for the 
faculties to unbend from the pressure of labor, and 
fix themselves upon the mental task. This is what 
few employers consider themselves able to afford. 
Once a week, in their opinion, is quite often enf)ugh 
for the slave to repeat his lesson; and through the 
week he may forget it. No wonder that both the in- 
dulgent master and the teacher — yes, and the learner, 
too, often become discouraged, and give up the task 
before the "Word of God is unlocked to the poor," 
for whom it was expressly written ! 

I speak as one who has felt these, obstacles, having, 
with the approval of one of the class to whom I have 
alluded, taken charge of a Sunday school among his 
servants. More attentive and grateful pupils I never 
had, but it has pained my heart to feel the difficulty 
of leading them even to the threshold of knowledge ; 
and there leaveing them ! 

In an adjoining household, however, it was still 
worse. George, a light-colored boy" of twenty -five, 
the "factotum" of his mistress, was the husband of 
our cook, Letty. I had succeeded in taking Letty 

308 TeachTno the Slave to Read, 

through several chapters in the Xew Testament, and 
this had aroused the ambition of George. 

What do you think ?'' exclaimed one of the 

family to me, one morning; ^'Mrs. has been 

loMpping George 

Why ! for what could that have been ? I thought 
he was a favorite servant !" 

For taking lessons of Letty in the spelling-book !" 
It was even so. The poor fellow wanted to learn to 
stammer in his Testament, and Letty, like any true- 
hearted wife, had given him the little assistance she 
could render. The whipping failed of its intended 
effect, however. Going one evening, at a late hour, 
into Letty's cabin, I found George seated by her on 
the floor, in the corner of their mud fire-place, poring 
intently over the forbidden spelling-book ! He started 
up confused, but seeing who it was, he was reassured, 
and went on with his lesson ! Whether George, 
Letty, or an}" of those who have gained the rudiments 
of science, will be more happy in their servitude, is to 
me exceedingly doubtful. Thus far the severer classes 
of masters have the right ; a slave, to be perfectly 
contented as a slave, must be in total ignorance. But 
better, far better, greater suffering, if it bring enlarge- 

Teaching the Slave to Eead. 309 

ment of man's higher being, than that system that 
would smother the soul in its bodily case. Let the 
slave have the key to the gate of Life Eternal, even 
if his pathway through this life must be more thickly 
sown with thorns. Let the opposing principles wage, 
until the right of one is asserted. And, oh ! above all 
pray for the day when these fetters shall be stricken 
from the souls God has created, Vv'herewith to people, 
we firmly trust, no mean ^'tabernacle" of His New 

TanjoDA-x, Nov. 25, 1853. 



Tlie Most Popular Author Before ti:e Public ! 

One Volume 12mo. Muslin— Price $;L25. 


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Protestant Churchman, 

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and the aifeciing interest wiiicli attracts and supports the readej 's 
attention through the whole work, from llie opening scene to the 
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This is a new wjrk from the pen of tiie gifrod author of the 
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till this victim of a parent's folly is f mnd in a felon's cell, with 
the mark of Cain on his brow. — ^iubani Dailj Aivtiiiscr, 

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the work, with slight modifications in each individual case, would 
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career of nine-tenths of the victims of the gallows, and of the 
penitentiary. — Mirror, Li/ons, A". Y. 

The writer of this and of many otiier pleasant volumes — 
*^ Cousin Cicely," as she chooses to be called — is oLfled with rare 
t dents, which she is w sely devoting tousjfiil ends. Her charm- 
ing ''Silver Like St jnes," have effe. ted much good, and this 


"Work is well caxul* ted to do the same, bo?h with children of the 
larger and of the smaller grov/th. * * * Difficulties of va- 
rious natures arise, on the last and most important of which han<2S 
tlie catastrophe of the st»jry. But what that is, and how the book 
ends, is for the reader to find out, not for us to tell. — Albany Eve 

# # * Qj^Q Qf ^]^Q domestic sort — speaking of home, dwel 
ling upon home affections and family character, and the incidents 
of common life, yet as deeply interesting as the most romantic 
narrative. It has not been paraded before the public with osten- 
tatious praise; but it will be far more acceptable to the reader 
than many works that have thus attracted interest in advance, 
without being able to meet and repay it. — Albany Atlas, 










From the OMo Farmer. 

Dr. Blake is justly regarded as one of the best agricultural writers 
in the country, and the work before us is one of the most interesting 
productions of his pen. Its peculiar merit, as a work for the fireside, 
consists in the variety of its topics, its plain and simple, yet attractive 
style, its fine engravings, and the interesting romance which the author 
has thrown around Rural and Agricultural Life. In this respect, " The 
Farm and the Fireside " is a work well adapted to the youthful mind 
"We hope it may be extensively read, as it cannot fail to improve the 
taste and promote inquiiy in the most useful and practical of all de- 
partments of science. 

From tho IJ'ew-Tork Evangelist 
The aim of the author has been to throw over labor, home and agri- 
cultural life, their true dignity and charm ; to introduce the farmer to 
the delights and privileges of his lot ; to embellish the cares of toil 
with those kindly sentiments so naturally associated with the country 
tad ita employmeiits. It is a pleasant booI^-'-^iaft tlaat will enliven th.« 


fireside, elevate and purify the thoughts, aud, at the same time, impart 
a great deal of valuable agricultural knowledge. We know not how 
the aatural trains of thought of the farmer could be more aptly met 
or more safely and agreeably led, than they are by these brief an# 
varied discussions. The range is as wide as life itself — morals, religion 
ousiness, recreation, education, home, wife and daughters — evei-^ reK 
tion and duty is touched upon, genially and instinctively. 

From the New-York Tribune. 

We have here another highly instructive and entertaining volmne 
from an author, who had laid the community under large obligations by 
the enterprise and tact with which he has so frequently catered to the 
popular taste for descriptions of rural life. Its contents are of a very 
miscellaneous character, embracing sketches of natural histoiy, accounts 
of successful farming operations, anecdotes of distinguished characters, 
singular personal reminiscences, pithy moral reflections, and numerous 
picturesof household life in the country. No family can add this vo- 
lume to their collection of books without increasing their sources o) 
pleasure and profit. 

From the Northern Christian Advocate. 

The venerable author of this work is entitled to the warmest thanks 
of the public for his nmnerous and valuable contributions to om' litera- 
ture. He is truly an American classic. We have been conversant 
with his writings for the last twenty years, and have always found 
them both useful and entertaining in a high degree. His writings on 
Agriculture contain much real science, with numerous illustrative inci 
dents, anecdotes, and aphorisms, all in the most lively and pleasing 
manner. By this means the diy details of farming business are made 
to possess all the interest of romance. The style is clear, easy, ana 
dignified ; the matter insti'uctive, philosophical, and persuasive. This 
work is an eloquent plea for the noble and independent pursuit ^ 

From the National Magazine. 

We return our thanks for the new volume of Dr. Blake, " The Farm 
and the Fireside, or the Romance of Agriculture, being Half Hours and 


ricetches of Life in the Country" a charming title, certainly, anrl one 
•that smacks of the man as well as of the country. Eschewing the 
dryness of scientific forms and erudite details, the author presents de- 
tached, but most enterUiining, and often very suggestive articles on a 
great vai'iety of topics — from the " Wild Goose" to "Conscience in the 
Cow," — from the " Value of Lawyers in a Community" to the "Objec- 
tions to early Marriages." Tlie bt>ok is, in fine, quite unique, and just 
such a one as the farmer would like to pore over at his fireside on long 
winter evenings. 

Prom the New-York Recorder. 

"The Farm and tlie Fireside," is a most interesting and valuable 
work, being a series of Sketches relating to Agriculture and the nu- 
merous kindred arts and sciences, iuterspei-sed with miscellaneous moral 
insti'uction, adapted to the life of the farmer. 

From the Gennantown Telegraph. 

"We have looked through this work and read some of the " Sketches," 
and feel a degree of satisfaction in saying that it possesses decided 
mei'it, and will commend itself, wherever known, as a volume of much 
social interest and entertainment The sketches comprise "Country 
Life" generally - some of them are just sufficiently touched wdth ro- 
mance to give them additional zest; while others are puiely practical, 
and lelate to the farmer's puisuit. We regard it as a valuable book, 
and are sorry our limits will not admit of bestowing upon it such a 
notice as it really deserves. 

From Harper's New Monthly Magazine. 

This work is a collection of miscellaneous sketches on the Romance 
of Agriculture and Rui-al Life. Matters of fact, however, are not ex- 
cluded fi'om the volume, which is well adapted for reading in the 
^fetches of leisure enjoyed at the farmer's fireside. 

From the True Democrat. 

Dr. Blake's publications are all of a high order, and are doing a most 
important work towards refining the taste, improying the intellect^ and 


rendering attractive the various branches of Agricultural science. In 
deed we know no author who has so successfully blended the roman- 
tic, the rural and beautiful with the poetical, the useful, and true, 
as has Dr. Blake. This is a peculiar feature of all his works. His 
style is plain, simple, and perspicuous; and, with unusual tact and 
judgment, he so manages to insinuate himself upon you, that you are 
at once amused, delighted, and instructed with the subject he is dis- 
cussing. In this respect he relieves the study of agricultural science 
from the abstruseness of technical science, and thus renders himsell 
easily copapreheuded by all classes of readers. 

From the New-York Evening Post. 

The author's object is to improve the soil thi-ough the mind — not so 
much to place in the hands of farmers the best methods of raising 
hirge ci'ops — for these he refers them to Leibig's Agricultural Chem 
istry, and to ti-eatises of the like description— but to make them fee* 
how useful, agreeable, and ennobling, is the profession of agi-iculture, 
and above all, how profitable the business must become when skilfully 
and economically carried on. These money-making considerations are, 
we suspect, the best moral guano that can be applied to the fai-mer's 
spiritual soil. The author writes well of the countryman's independ- 
ence, the good elfect of fresh salubrious air upon his health, and the 
moral influence of his every -day intimacy wnth nature upon his mind. 

"The Farm and the Fireside" is a kind of Bucolical annual — to be 
read in seasons of leisure — intended for the Phyllises and Chloes, as 
"well as for the StJ'ephons and Liudois. Dr. Blake has eui'iched it with 
curious anecdotes of domestic animals, and of the best way of raising 
and selling them. He describes model-farms, and the large incomes 
made from them. He expatiates on the advantiiges of matrimony in 
rural life, expounds the true theory of choosing a helpmate, discusses 
the advantages of Sunday-Schools, and recommends neatness of attire 
and punctuality in bathing. In short, this volume is as diversified in 
its aspect as the small garden of a judicious cultivator, where, in a 
limited space, useful cabbages, potatoes, and all the solid esculent 
greens, grow side by side with choice fruits and pleasant flowers.